Archive of Our Own ^beta

She knows she hasn't been kidnapped. The memory of leaving the bunker, driving home and entering the loft is pretty clear in her head. She wasn't feeling well, with the worst of headaches, that's why she left early before the others even showed up. The cushions against her back tell Felicity she's on her couch at the loft, with a blanket covering her body. She must've collapsed here, too tired to reach the bedroom upstairs.

Even with her eyes closed, she knows the main lights are off, probably dark outside, but there's a small flickering light coming from in front of her. The sound of a crackling fire. The smell of burnt wood. The fireplace.

It's a dream. Felicity knows it is.

She must be dreaming, because she hasn't lit it up in months. Not since he moved out. He was the one who always took care of it, always, because he didn't want for her to get burned or get splinters in her hands. So she never touched it.

Which is why Felicity is so sure she's having a dream.

Oh, and now she's also imagining Oliver's scent. That familiar smell of leather, bodywash and just something unique of him. It's all over the place.

But he hasn't been at the loft for weeks, not since he asked her if her relationship with Billy was real. She knew her answer back then, she never doubted it, but she wasn't ready to admit the truth to him. Not yet, at least. She was still hurting from his lies.

But that doesn't matter right now, because this is a dream, and her head is still pounding. That feels real, unfortunately. Felicity turns on her back, moaning in pain when she feels an invisible hammer beating against her skull. Her head feels like it's about to explode.

Gentle fingers move the damp hair stuck to her forehead, before she feels something cool and wet against the heated skin of her face and neck. She sighs in relief at the sensation.

Felicity opens her eyes slowly, adjusting them to the soft light. And there, right next to her, sitting on the coffee table while wiping a cloth over her cheek, there's Oliver.

Right. The dream.

He smiles gently at her. "Hey." His voice is quiet, as if he knows it might bring her pain if he speaks any louder.

"Am I hallucinating?" She asks him directly, sure he's going to disappear at any second.

Oliver shakes his head. "No, I'm right here."

Felicity stares at him for a few moments. He looks real, his hand touching her feels real, his voice sounds real. Maybe this isn't a dream after all. "But how? And... why?"

Oliver refreshes the cloth in the bowl of water next to him on the coffee table, then places it back on her forehead and keeps it there. "When I got to the bunker John mentioned you went back home because you weren't feeling well. I came to check if you needed anything, and when I knocked you didn't open up, then didn't answer your phone. I got worried and used the key you left me for emergencies. I hope you don't mind."

She shakes her head, regretting it immediately when the room seems to spin around her. "As long as you keep that thing cool, you can stay as long as you want." She murmurs.

"I've been debating with myself if I should take you to the hospital. You have a pretty high fever." Oliver reaches for the thermometer on the coffee table and gently places it against her skin, checking her temperature. "It's still 107. I don't like this."

"It will go down. Give it time." She tries to reassure him, even if she has to admit she never had it so high.

"It's been like this for the last four hours, Felicity." Oliver sighs. "I'm getting worried."

His words make her frown. "How long have you been here?"

Oliver checks his watch. "It's 3:20 in the morning, so about seven hours."

Felicity stares at him. How didn't she wake up in all that time?

"You did, briefly." He answers the question she apparently said out loud. "But you were so out of it that I was only able to give you the meds before you went back to sleep."

She watches, speechless, as he rinses the cloth once again, folds it and places it on her forehead. It's just like when they were together and she got a bad cold. He always took care of her.

It's as if time never passed.

"Why are you still here though?" She can't stop the question before it passes her lips. "You gave me meds, there's not much else you can do."

"I can try to keep your fever down." He tells her gently, before hesitating. "I can call Billy if you don't want me here, but I'm not leaving you by yourself like this."

At the mention of the other man, Felicity closes her eyes with a sigh. "Please don't call him."

"Are you sure?"

"He's the last person I want to see right now. We... argued and, well... I don't think I'll see him any time soon." She confesses.

"Oh..." She opens her eyes to see Oliver run his free hand on the back of his neck, something he does when he's unsure or uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Don't worry about it." Felicity closes her eyes again when the light from the fire starts to bother her. "I don't mind if you stay. But I don't want to keep you from something else." Or someone, her mind supplies.

"No other place I'd rather be." Oliver whispers so softly she almost misses it. Just like the fingers that ghost over her cheek. He clears his throat, making her open her eyes again. "I brought some of the island herbs. You want to try those too? They helped in the past."

"It's three in the morning." She reminds him.

"So?"

"It's late. You should get some sleep, Oliver." She tells him tiredly.

"Taking care of you it's more important. I'll sleep when you'll be better." His voice makes it clear that's not up for discussion. "Are you up for that herbal tea?"

"Okay." She concedes.

Oliver nods. "You gonna be alright while I make it?" He cools once again the cloth as he stands. Felicity nods, sighing in relief when he places it back.

He walks to the kitchen, and Felicity focuses on the soft noises he makes. Cabinets opening, water filling the teapot, the mug being placed on the counter, Oliver's soft steps. It's all so familiar and soothing that she finds herself drifting back to sleep again.

Her phone vibrating on the coffee table makes her open her eyes. She reaches out to grab it and finds two messages from Billy.

The first from a few hours ago, asking her if she's still angry because of their argument. Yes, she is. And if she really meant that they should stop seeing each other. Yes, she did.

The second message, the one she received just now, it's to inform her that he found a lead on the vigilante known as Speedy, and he will prove to her that they are a problem for the city's safety.

Felicity quickly texts Thea to warn her to be careful, before turning off her phone with an irritated sigh. Billy still looked for a way to stop the vigilantes even when she tried to show him the good they did. She now knows he'll never look at it from a different prospective, too hellbent on stopping them.

And then her irritation just grows when she remembers telling him about feeling sick for the last two days. In 48 hours he never asked if he could help her somehow of if she felt any better. Not a word about it. Did he even care?

It doesn't matter anymore. Hopefully, she won't see him ever again.

The teapot whistling behind her makes her sit up and turn around. Oliver is pouring hot water into the mug, a concentrated look on his face.

Oliver. The man she pushed away when she couldn't trust him with her heart, has been taking care of her for the last seven hours. She didn't ask him a single thing, didn't even mention she wasn't feeling well, yet he showed up on his own and stayed. Her heart beats faster, a sudden warmth filling her chest just at the thought that he still cares about her, enough to drop everything and come to her help.

Before she can think of something she might regret later, Felicity stands to go sit at the counter, but a wave of dizziness hits her and her stomach protests. With a hand covering her mouth, Felicity rushes to the bathroom, barely making it on time. Her knees hit hard the tiled floor as she bends over the toilet retching. She mostly dry heaves, as she barely ate anything the whole day, but her stomach spasm painfully, bringing tears to her eyes.

She hears water running from the sink, then a glass is handed to her. Felicity blindly accepts it, rinsing her mouth while Oliver sits on the floor behind her, a hand running soothing circles over her back.

When her stomach settles a little, Felicity flushes the toilet. She feels even weaker than before and sits back, finding herself between his legs. Oliver's hands pull her to him until her back rests against his chest. There's a wet towel in his hand, that he most likely grabbed when he entered the room, and runs it over her face, making her feel slighty refreshed.

"Better?" He asks, and she hums in answer.

They stay in silence for a while, with Oliver just holding her and Felicity letting him. The nausea slowly dissipates, until Felicity feels confident she won't get sick again. Her head resting against his collarbone, she tilts it up so she can see him. "I'm sorry for being such a burden."

"Shh, it's okay." Oliver whispers, his hand cradling her cheek. "Don't worry about it."

"It's not your obligation to take care of me." She murmurs quietly.

"Felicity... Just because we're not together, it doesn't mean I will stop taking care of you when you need help." He tells her calmly. "I will always be here for you. I hope you know that."

She sighs. "I know."

Oliver nods in understanding. "Are you okay to go back in the living room?"

Felicity nods and accepts his offered hand to stand. Her legs shake and without a word Oliver picks her up to carry her to the couch. It says something about her condition that she doesn't even try to protest, because she knows she can't walk right now without stumbling through the loft. Or passing out.

Oliver gently places her on the couch and Felicity leans back against the cushions with a sigh, feeling drained. She feels him place the blanket over her legs, making her open her eyes.

He remembers.

Since the paralysis, and even after the bio-stimulant was placed in her spine, her legs always felt colder than the rest of her body. She always needs a blanket to make sure they're warm enough. And Oliver still remembers such a small detail.

Felicity gives him a grateful smile, to which he responds with a gentle squeeze of his hand on her knee.

He quietly walks to the kitchen to get the tea, then he's back to her, holding out the steaming mug to her. She carefully takes it and holds it between her hands. Felicity watches him as he starts to sit back on the coffee table again.

"Oliver." She stops him gently.

He looks at her with a questioning gaze. She doesn't need to use words to make him understand why she didn't let him sit there. After only a moment of hesitation, Oliver sits next to her on the couch, a mug of his own in his hands.

"What's that?" Felicity asks him before taking a sip of her herbal tea. Luckily he put some honey in it so it's more drinkable.

Oliver looks at her, and then down at his mug. "Uh, I found a brand new box of chamomile in the cupboard."

It always helped him to sleep, or at least relax, when they lived together. And it was his. She never drank it. And he knows that.

"Felicity..." He whispers her name so softly, making her close her eyes at the memories that tone of voice brings back. "I'm pretty sure this wasn't there when I... the last time I've been in the kitchen."

"No, it wasn't." She tells him honestly. There's no point in denying it. "I bought it when I went grocery shopping last week." Felicity opens her eyes and with a steading breath, she turns to face him. His expression is soft as he waits for her to continue. "l... I'm not sure why I bought it, though."

"It doesn't have to mean anything if you-"

"I think it does, but... I- When we..." She stutters through her sentence.

"Maybe you don't feel ready for it to mean something." Oliver tells her with a gentle smile.

Felicity looks down at her lap. She knows that when she bought that box she was thinking about him. She bought it on purpose, it wasn't a mistake. Her subconscious was trying to tell her something, but she didn't want to deal with it in that moment.

Now, with Oliver sitting next to her, drinking that same chamomile she got for him, her mind can't stop thinking.

She slowly drinks the island herbs, the silence stretching between them but it's not uncomfortable.

When they're both done drinking, Oliver places the mugs on the coffee table, and runs his hands over his thighs in a nervous gesture. He's about to stand, when she stops him.

"It was for you." Her voice is barely a whisper, but she knows he heard her when he stills. "The chamomile, I bought it for you. And I wasn't going to give it to you or bring it at the bunker. I bought it to keep it here, for you. For when you'd be here."

Felicity takes a deep breath, then turns to face him. His eyes are pained at the reminder of their current situation, but they also look hopeful.

"I know it's just a box and maybe I'm reading too much into this, but I know for sure that I want to try. I... I want to try to trust you again."

"Felicity..."

"I do trust you with my life, that never stopped, you have to know that." She sees him nod. "I want to trust you with my heart again. But I..." Her voice trembles and she's unsure how to express what she's thinking. But she doesn't have to say more, because Oliver knows her better than herself.

"You need more time." He tells her gently, to which she nods. "I get that. I understand. And I will do whatever you need me to to gain that trust back."

Felicity briefly closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, before facing him again. "Time, and no more lies. Even if you think it's for the better, no lies."

He's already nodding before she even finishes her sentence. "No more lies." He gently takes a hold of her hand. "I swear."

She sighs again leaning back against the couch and closing her eyes, their hands still entwined.

"You should sleep some more." She gives him a tired nod. "Lay down."

Instead of following his suggestion, Felicity leans her upper body against his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

Oliver seems to immediately relax at the contact, letting out a sigh of his own.

"You're gonna catch whatever kind of cold I have." Felicity whispers.

His free hand reaches out and pulls up the blanket until it covers her body up to her chin. "I'm willing to risk it." He whispers back.

Silence surrounds them once again, and it doesn't take her long to fall asleep, with Oliver's gentle hand soothingly running through her hair.

And when the next morning Felicity wakes up to the soft lights of dawn, with Oliver's arms wrapped protectively around her as he sleeps peacefully, she feels so much better.

Phisically, but also emotionally.

She knows that things won't be easy, but this is a start. And that's everything she needs, to know that one day they will be okay.