Both men turned to look at him. For a second Malcolm appeared surprised by his presence before he levelled a twisted smile at Oliver. Pushing Tommy aside, he said, "Leave us."
"Dad, come on. You don't have to do-"
Out of patience, Malcolm bellowed, "Go!"
Tommy looked at Oliver, clearly conflicted. "Get Felicity and go downstairs. Wait for the police. They'll be here soon." When Tommy was slow to obey, Oliver shouted, "NOW!" The sound of his voice, raised with urgency, propelled Tommy into action.
Felicity listened intently. She was relieved to hear Oliver's voice, but also scared. Malcolm was probably at his most dangerous and he appeared to be revelling in the idea of finally killing the man she loved. The very idea, made her tremble with fear.
Wriggling in the chair in an attempt to loosen her bonds, she saw Tommy rush in. He looked around for a second before grabbing an arrow off the a table. Using the head as a knife, he cut her restraints.
"I'm sorry, Felicity. I had no idea.."he started, his breathing laboured. "I said some horrible things to you earlier. I shouldn't have."
Rubbing a hand over her numb wrist, she shook her head at him. "You didn't know. It's okay."
He seemed like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself. "Can you walk?" At her nod he said, "Let's get out of here."
She grasped his shoulder, panicked. "We can't just leave Oliver!"
"He wants you out of here, safe. The police are on their way," he told her reassuringly.
Taking a calming breath Felicity grabbed hold of his extended hand and lifted herself from the chair. Her legs felt a little heavy, but she would manage. Stepping forward, she prayed that Oliver would make it out alive.
Malcolm laughed, low and sadistic. "So it's finally you and me. Long overdue I'd say. Then again, this is going to be quick. I've bettered you twice already, without even really trying. This time should be no different – except the ending. You'll be leaving in a body bag."
Oliver watched him closely. He had a fencing sword in his hands, the end a little bloody. "I wouldn't be so certain if I were you."
He felt the tenuous grip he'd maintained on his control slip as he briefly glanced at Tommy, arm around Felicity, assisting her toward the door. Her hair was messy and her clothes badly rumpled. She looked pale and a little weak, a bloody streak on her cheek and bruises around her wrists and ankles.
She looked up at him as she passed by, her eyes vulnerable and afraid behind the lenses of her glasses. Unable to show her any hint of his true feelings lest Malcolm use it against him, he looked away and stared straight ahead, thinking it best to remain focussed. That however, didn't stop him from desperately wanting to reach out and touch her.
Tommy stopped beside him, his voice pleading, "Please. He's my father." With one final look of despair aimed at his parent, he helped Felicity out of the room.
"So how would you like us to do this?" Malcolm stood staring at Oliver, unbuttoning his dress shirt before removing it.
He seemed cocky and arrogant, as though he'd already won. What he didn't know was that this time, things were different - it was personal. Malcolm had messed with his inner circle, a life that was so closely entwined with his, he would have risked everything to see her to safety – including discovery or even death. Now that she was securely out of harms way, he could focus on ending this once and for all. His doubts, his fears, his insecurities melted away as he stared at his opponent, determined to make it out of this.
"With less talk!" Oliver released his arrow, but Malcolm anticipated it and dropped to the floor, rolling behind his desk. Approaching, another arrow already lined up, Oliver sent it, and more, raining down on the desk and its surrounds.
Malcolm came at him from the side, his body slamming into Oliver's as they hit the ground. Oliver cried out as he felt his ribs protest under the force of the landing. Shoving Malcolm off him, his bow thrown to the opposite side of the room, he grabbed the closest object he could find – a heavy paperweight – and threw it at his foe.
It landed with a thud against the side of Malcolm's head, knocking him sideways as he attempted to regain his footing, his foil slipping from his hand with a clatter. Diving for his bow, Oliver almost grabbed hold of it before Malcolm seized both his feet in a vice and pulled him back forcefully, his hood not quite falling off. He could feel the wooden floor scrape against his belly as his jacket rode up, the resulting scratches burning.
Once more in control, Malcolm turned him over and aimed his shoe at Oliver's already fragile rib cage. Expecting the kick, he caught Malcolm's foot just before it made contact with his torso and twisted it sharply to the side. Malcolm cried out in pain, the muscles of his groin objecting under the strain. Oliver leapt to his feet and punched Malcolm in the face, hard, a half dozen times. He staggered back with every blow, his face swinging from one side to the next, already a bloody mess.
Sensing he had the upper hand, Oliver barrelled into him and used his body weight to throw Malcolm backward across his desk. Paper and stationery went flying in one direction, shards of glass in another. Advancing on him, Oliver grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, lifting him to his feet and jabbing him in the stomach - once, twice - with so much force he heard the repetitive whoosh as the air left his lungs. The final jab, so powerful, sent Malcolm reeling backward and falling over the sideboard.
Not giving up yet, Malcolm turned around quickly, grabbing Oliver before butting their heads together, sending him keeling rearward. Quickly regaining his balance, Oliver refused to allow Malcolm the opportunity to get into his stride. Running forward, he thrust an angled elbow into his face. The other man groaned loudly as his nose broke. Oliver kept the pressure on, punching, kicking and thrashing him solidly, systematically wearing him down. By the time Oliver had exercised a portion of his anger, in addition to a broken nose, Malcolm also had a broken shin, fractured wrist, and innumerable soft tissue injuries.
He could hear the police sirens downstairs, relief flooding him as he realised that Felicity was safe. That knowledge, coupled with his desire to see her, spurred him on.
Malcolm, slumped to the ground, blood running down his forehead, stared up at Oliver, hatred blazing in his eyes. "This isn't over," he threatened, attempting to stand up.
Oliver kicked his good leg out from under him, the man falling to the floor, his face knocking against the ground. This was his moment, the one he'd waited so long for. He knew he could kill him, easily. One fatal blow in the right place and it would all be over. The world would be rid of Malcolm Merlyn and The Archer, all at once. But staring into the back of his dark head, so like Tommy's, Oliver couldn't do it.
Killing Malcolm would create a divide between them that they would never be able to breach. He'd settle for preserving their friendship and sending Malcolm to jail, a decision he hoped Tommy would support and understand. Choice made, he leaned down. "Yeah, it is." He punched Malcolm in the face, watching as he instantly lost consciousness.
At the same moment, Tommy ran in, rushing to his father's side. He touched him with shaking hands. "Is he…?"
"No," Oliver replied. "He's merely unconscious."
He saw Tommy breath a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
"The only reason he's alive is because of you," Oliver said softly.
Tommy looked at him, his eyes filled with gratitude. "I know. Ollie-"
Oliver could hear the police running up the fire escape. "Not now, Tommy. There will be time afterward."
His friend seemed to understand. "Go. I'll catch up with you later."
Felicity felt like she'd spent an eternity under the scrutiny of the paramedics and then the police. After providing her statement and explaining for the third time what had happened – leaving out a few pertinent facts of course – she was released and escorted home by a friendly officer.
After a quick shower and a change of clothes, she paced impatiently, waiting for Oliver to arrive; she knew he'd come and see her as soon as he was able to. Diggle had called to let her know that Oliver had made it back to Verdant, but he'd warned her about leaving her apartment to meet them. She may be under police surveillance as a precaution.
Frustrated, she twirled her fingers around her hair. After washing it she'd left it to hang loose wanting it to dry.
Finally, there was a knock at her door. Her heart in her throat, she jerked it open to see Oliver, out of his leather, an anxious look on his face.
At the sight of her, he rushed in, shutting the door behind him with a thud before taking her into his arms. She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, his around her waist as he lifted her clean off the ground. His face was buried in her neck. "Are you alright?"
All she could do was nod. She was so happy to see him safe.
A lifetime later, he set her down gently and drew back a fraction, his hands running over her face, tracing the faint line of the scab on her cheek. His eyes flared with anger at the sight of it.
"I would have killed him if it wasn't for Tommy," he whispered, his hands cupping the sides of her face.
"You did the right thing," she insisted, turning her head and kissing his palm. "I'm fine. Really I am. He's going to jail and he's never coming out. He can't hurt anyone anymore."
"I hope Tommy's going to be okay." Felicity could tell he was concerned about his friend.
His hands moved down and clasped her loosely around her waist. "It may take some time, but he'll rally. I think he's a lot stronger than you've given him credit for."
Oliver nodded. "I know. I should have known better. As I should have known that you'd be more than capable of handling yourself today." He smiled.
Felicity gave him a shocked look. "Me? I was a wreck!"
"You were strong. The way you left those clues for Dig, the way you managed the situation with Malcolm. Anyone else may have panicked. But you," he smiled and her heart turned over, "you were calm and you played it perfectly."
Felicity laughed. "I think you give me too much credit. I babbled a few times. It was pretty touch and go at one point."
"I want you to promise me something." He was looking at her seriously.
Felicity huffed. "You're not going to go all macho on me and demand that I stop working with you, are you? Because I can tell you now, that's not your decision to make. It's mine and I choose to help in whatever way I can."
Oliver's lips twitched. "Actually I prefer it if you're working with me. I can keep a closer eye on you."
"So what's this promise?" she asked suspiciously.
He smoothed the frown lines from her forehead. "Only that you keep the bulk of your in depth research confined to the foundry. It's more secure there. I'd feel better knowing that you're in a safer environment."
"That I can do." The way he was looking at her made her bones melt and her brain turn to mush. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
His hands trailed down her bare arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. "The same reason you're looking at me like that."
Her face flushed as he leaned down to capture her lips in a soft kiss. Eyes fluttering closed, she sighed with pleasure as her hands moved up to grab hold of his shoulders, steadying herself. She gasped as his arms pulled her closer, her soft form bumping delightfully against the hardness of his.
She heard him moan, his hands moving again, grasping the back of her head to hold her still as he angled his mouth across hers, deepening the kiss. Felicity was a ball of awareness, every nerve ending alive and humming with enjoyment. She felt lightheaded, drunk from his intoxicating kisses.
He lifted her without breaking their kiss, walked the few steps to the couch and lay her down gently, his body following hers until they were nothing but a tangle of arms and legs. Lips devoured and hands explored, neither of them able to get close enough to the other.
"Felicity-"
His pocket started vibrating.
Oliver cursed. Lifting his lips from hers, he flashed her an apologetic smile. It was a text from his mother. She wanted him home urgently. He sighed in frustration.
"Something wrong?" Felicity asked, concerned.
He looked down at her, her hair spread around the pillow like a cloud of gold. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes soft and sensual. He didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't stay. His family needed him. "My mother. The news of Malcolm's arrest must have reached her. They were friends."
She nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine it will come as a shock to many."
"I don't want to leave you," he said, nuzzling the side of her neck.
Felicity gasped, his stubble ticklish. "You have to."
He shifted his weight so that he lay beside her, her head cradled on his chest. "Have dinner with me tomorrow night?"
"Yes," was her automatic response. She sounded relaxed and sleepy.
He laughed. "That was easy."
"I'm picking my battles. I'm bound to be hungry and you're offering to buy me a meal. How's that not a win-win?" she teased.
"I get it. You're only in it for the free food."
She lifted her head from his shoulder. "Oh no. Getting to make out with my dinner date is definitely another perk."
His eyes darkened. "I couldn't agree more."
She kissed the underside of his jaw and his heart turned over at the sweet gesture. "You'd better go."
Reluctantly he stood and pulled her up behind him. "Until tomorrow," he whispered as he kissed her goodnight.