Felicity sighs as she watches Detective Lance walk away angrily, that headache starting to flare up again. She was stupid to try and convince him about the Arrow's noble intentions, but it's difficult for her to listen to him say horrible things about the only person in the city that seems to be doing any good. It will only increase Lance's suspicion—and, by association, cause the Arrow more trouble—but there are just some things that are impossible to let go. For her, that's one of them.
A paramedic says to her, interrupting her thoughts, "It could be likely you have a concussion. You probably need to be in observation for the next twenty-four hours, just in case." He eyes her warily. "Do you have someone to stay with you tonight?"
Felicity waves a hand. "I can call someone, she says easily, and that seems to satisfy the jerk, who has apparently pegged her in that "forever alone" box that she hates so much. Seriously, her appearance may scream "nerd," but that doesn't mean they all have to assume that it also means "nerd with no life." She has friends, thank you.
(Well, three of them, anyway.)
She calls the one she goes to for the hard stuff, seeing as how she owes him a few confessions anyway. Not surprisingly, he picks up on the first ring, chipper as always. "Hey, Sherly," Barry says on the other end of the connection. "How are things? I haven't heard from you in a couple of days." There's some sort of background noise—like a subway station—and then it clears. "Believe it or not, I was actually about to call you—I'm gonna be in Starling for a few days. Can I crash at your place?"
"Of course," Felicity replies, relieved it's going to go according to plan. "That's actually why I was calling. I—um, well, did you hear about that fire in Starling's newest nightclub?"
"Well, yeah," Barry replies instantly. "Are you kidding? It's been on the news since the explosion. It was at Verdant, that new club opened by—" He stops, his voice changing abruptly into something much more grave. "Oh, God, you were there, weren't you?"
Felicity tries to chuckle at the near-death experience, but the tone is off, and she's certain it's obvious that she's faking it. "Um, yeah," she replies, surprisingly chipper. Before he can worry, she rushes to add, "I'm fine, though—just a few cuts from broken glass and a gash down my arm from a light fixture. But the paramedics are concerned about a concussion, and they don't want me to stay home alone."
"I'll come pick you up," he says immediately. "Try not to get into any trouble while you're waiting." She means to protest, but the rude jerk hangs up on her before she can. She swears, sometimes she doesn't know why she loves him. But then she thinks about the day they met, and she remembers quickly.
But as much as she appreciates Barry, she realizes he's a complication. The Arrow has already said he's going to visit her, and she thinks that could turn awkward fast. She's determined to help keep his secret, and Barry is an exposure they both don't want. And, besides, he's the biggest Arrow fanboy in the known universe—and possibly some unknown ones—so Felicity might be just a little embarrassed by the thought of Barry and the Arrow in the same room. Barry is a natural fit as a scientist with his natural inquisitiveness and burning curiosity, but, somehow, she thinks the Arrow won't appreciate that quality as much as the scientific community does.
Interrupting her thoughts, a voice breaks through the clamor of the witnesses and EMTs around her. "Felicity!" he yells, and she knows it's Oliver before she even looks in his direction. Concern falls across his features as he sees her bandaged arm, and he frowns as he sits on the bumper, putting his hand on her elbow as she turns to face him. "Are you all right?"
She looks him over to see if he's been injured, but she can't see anything except for a few scratches on his face, ones that resemble the ones she has from the glass breakage. She would be more concerned if he didn't seem so calm and cool, with the tie on his shirt loosened and a few buttons undone at his collar. His suit coat is draped over his arm, and the sleeves on his white dress shirt are rolled up above his elbows.
"Yeah," she assures him with a tired smile. "And you?" She means to say more, but the cold air cuts through the area like a knife, and, between her sleeveless pink dress and her jacket that's probably ashes in the wreckage, she shivers. Of course Oliver notices, and suddenly the gray suit coat is draped over her shoulders. It's a little warmer, so she gathers it around her better. "Thank you," she mutters, realizing what a scene the two of them must make. But she's really just too tired to care what anyone thinks about them together.
"No problem. And it was nothing I couldn't handle," he assures her with a lopsided smile that makes her breath hitch for a moment. Oliver's smiles are so rare and unexpected that sometimes she can't help but get lost in them. She shakes her head to clear it, but groans when her vision keeps swimming after she stops. A wave of nausea runs through her, and she bites down on her lip to keep from covering Oliver's shoes in that nice red wine from earlier. Concern covers his smile instantly, and he places an arm on her shoulder to steady her.
In a moment of complete fatigue and reckless abandon, she sighs before leaning over, her head falling on Oliver's shoulder. He seems a little surprised at first, but then his arm reaches around behind her, his hand falling on her forearm gently, even though the bandaged one is against his side. With a final mental, What the hell, she kicks off her flats and folds her legs under her, causing her to lean into Oliver more. They sit there together like that for a long, quiet moment, but then she breaks the silence by saying, "Sorry, my head decided to spin without my permission. Apparently I'm at a risk for a concussion." She chuckles softly. "I guess the Vigilante was a nice guy for getting me out of there, but the exploding-arrow-trick kind of messed up my head." She rubs her ears again, but then is reminded that the ringing is from the explosion. She bites her lip. "Sorry, I know you don't like to talk about him."
"I'm slowly changing my mind," he says quietly. There's a long moment of hesitation before he says slowly, "He can't be that bad if he was smart enough to save you." The admission causes Felicity's eyes to flick upward of their own accord, but she finds his expression guarded and unreadable. She finds him so self-conscious that she doesn't even try to ask him about that, but he changes the subject before she can speak, anyway. "Thea wasn't injured," he says casually, "and I think you had something to do with that. Thank you."
She's about to roll her eyes, but then she remembers that head movements don't exactly agree with her right now, and she doesn't want to risk it. "I didn't do anything special," she says dryly. "I just pushed her and Merlyn through a door. But I'm glad to hear she's in better shape than the two of us." She laughs. "We're a fine pair—like Clark Kent and Diana Prince after a particularly horrible night." When his eyebrows knit together in confusion, she sighs, frustrated. "Seriously, you need to pick up a comic book every now and again. Do Superman and Wonder Woman ring any bells? I'm talking about their alter-egos. Not that I'm exactly Wonder Woman material, but, well, you get the point."
"I'm not exactly Superman, either," he replies easily, "so I think that metaphor was flawed from the start." It strikes her for a moment that he's actually teasing her again, and she can't stop the goofy smile from spreading across her face.
"Well, Mr. Ivy-League-Dropout," she retorts, "it would technically be a simile. But you're right, it wasn't exactly one of my finer moments. But, hey, cut a girl some slack—my ears are ringing so bad that feel like I need to yell over a sound that isn't there." She feels more than hears him chuckle in response, and her eyes fall shut for a long moment, trying to fight off the headache that's threatening to attack. Finally she says quietly, "Detective Lance told me about Mr. Steele. That's gotta be hard on your family."
Oliver sighs as though the weight of the world has settled on his shoulders. "He and Thea are close," he says finally, "but I don't think she's had time to process what the cops have told us." He hesitates before adding, "I don't really even know Walter." He lets out a humorless chuckle. "You'd think with five years on an island would give me time to think about the possibility of my mother remarrying, but it was an unexpected surprise to find that my father's right-hand man shares a bed with my mother."
By the tone in his voice, Felicity can tell that the subject is a little sensitive, so she changes topics. She laughs before saying, "You know, I was going to tell you tonight that the club looked amazing, but, well, now's a bad time, isn't it?"
He chuckles again, but this time the sound is pleasant. "It was under construction before," he replies easily, seeming surprisingly upbeat for someone who just lost a nice investment. "Now it's just more under construction." There's a pause before he says, "And I'm glad you liked the setup. There never would have been a Verdant if you hadn't convinced me to do something I want to do. So, thank you."
She shrugs as much as she can under the circumstances. "That's what I'm supposed to do," she replies dryly. "Friends, remember? Friends encourage each other, and, apparently, freeze to death so that the other can stay warm," she adds as a particularly violent burst of cold air runs across them.
Oliver chuckles quietly. "I'm not cold," he assures her quietly, in a tone she can't quite interpret. Whatever it is, it's combined with a nervous rubbing motion at the top of his knee, and, for the first time, Felicity understands why he always wears long-sleeved shirts. Scars litter his arm, some looking older than their counterparts, others thicker and angrier than others.
Unable to stop herself, she reaches out a hand, running a line over one of them. He freezes immediately, and she pulls her hand back in embarrassment, her face already starting to color. "Sorry," she says quietly. "I just didn't realize—" she starts, but then stops abruptly as she realizes there's really no good way to end that sentence.
The chuckle that leaves Oliver this time is devoid of humor. "That I'm damaged?" he answers bitterly, his tone biting and dark. But, despite the way she flinches, Felicity thinks she might just be getting her first real look at Oliver Queen. "That I'm even more screwed up now than I was before?" She's stunned into silence for a long moment, and he finally adds, "I can take just about anything, but if you're going to pity me, I'm going to leave."
Finally mustering up some words, she finishes that sentence because it can't be any worse than where his mind is right now. "How much you've endured," she says quietly, and his eyes flick down to her. She pulls away, sitting up so she can look at him—really look at him. "I just didn't realize how much you've endured," she repeats slowly, careful not to let anything close to pity show in her expression. She thinks he's about to bolt at any second, and she needs him to understand what she meant. "You always plaster on smiles and expressions like they're some sort of body armor. Sometimes you make it easy for me to forget that you've been through Hell and back." She bites her lip before adding, "And of course you're damaged." He flinches, already expecting the worst before he hears what she has to say. "We're all damaged, and we're all screwed up, Oliver. That makes you human." She hesitates. "And, for the record, we all have scars. It's just that some of us wear them on the inside."
He doesn't say anything right away, just pulls her back against his side into the same position, and she knows she's forgiven. There's a long moment before he sighs, and then finally starts in a whisper, "On the island, I... I had to make some difficult choices—some decisions I'm not proud of." He releases his breath, then opens his mouth like he's going to say more, but then abruptly closes it.
She puts her hand over his, sitting atop his knee, and she's careful this time not to linger on the scars that he seems so sensitive about. "A lot has happened tonight," she says sternly, forcefully. "Everybody here nearly died less than an hour ago. I think that's enough trauma for one night." She lances her fingers through his. "When you're ready to talk about the island, I'm ready to listen. But not tonight—neither of us can handle it. So we'll schedule it for another time—when I haven't nearly been blown up and your club hasn't been burned to ash." She squeezes his hand, searching for a response. "Okay?" she asks, and he nods once, the motion short and precise, silently telling her he's not capable of words right now. She finds that fair, though because she seems to have run out, too.
There's a long moment before he finally speaks again, saying, "Will you be all right tonight?" He must feel the awkwardness set in after that statement, so he continues. "If you'd like some company, I could stay on your couch." His voice and expression are neutral, and she's genuinely surprised to find that it's an open gesture. He doesn't expect her to say yes, he's not trying to convince her—he's just genuinely concerned.
She bites her lip before saying quietly, "Barry's in town for a few days with business stuff, so he's actually crashing for a few days." She rushes on to add, "But I appreciate the offer—it was really nice of you to ask." She doesn't add that, under different circumstances, she just might have taken him up on it.
***
Oliver isn't surprised when Felicity finally nods off on his shoulder, and he's more than a little relieved to have his thoughts to himself for a moment. She's unfortunately been through a lot tonight, and he's glad to see her resting. He's also grateful that she turned his offer down; he was an idiot to ask, since he plans on checking on her as the Arrow, but the thought of leaving her alone in that apartment just doesn't seem right. Barry is a complication, but one he can maneuver around easily, he thinks.
But Felicity is never what he expects. When she reached out and touched one of the scars on his arm, he thought that it was that night with Laurel happening all over again. He saw the pity in her eyes, and he doesn't want anyone's sympathy for the scars. Because, despite what he faced on that island, he has never worked so hard in his life as he did in those five years. It was pure Hell, sure, but he earned those scars, and he doesn't want anyone's sympathy for being able to survive. But Felicity didn't downplay his ability to survive, she didn't tear up; she just accepted that fact without judgment. And when he told her he was damaged, she didn't try to convince him otherwise. We're all damaged, she had said, including herself in the plural. And, well, that means something to him because Felicity is the highest-functioning person he's ever met in his life.
And when he tried to talk to her about the island, she stopped him. Not because she didn't want to listen, but because she knew he wasn't ready to tell her yet. It was meant to be his apology for the way he spoke to her, but she didn't need it. She understood what he meant, even without him saying the words. It's a surprisingly nice feeling, much like the feel of her head against his shoulder.
He nearly lost her tonight. The thought has crossed his mind at random intervals since he pulled her out through that busted window. Somehow the thought is unbearable, though, a few months ago, he didn't even know her name. He then decides that's probably why he can't imagine being without her; she's still a riddle, a mystery to him, and he's curious to see what other secrets she's hiding behind that fuchsia-painted smile and two-toned glasses.
Because Felicity Smoak, in his experience, is a naturally guarded, secretive person, and he accepts that she's always going to be a mystery to him. But that isn't going to stop him from trying to solve her.
The clearing of a throat snaps him out of his thoughts. At first he thinks it's a paramedic who wants his ambulance back, but then he sees Thea smiling mischievously and it immediately causes him to prepare for the worst. "Oh, I never expected to see you like this, Ollie."
He knows that tone, he knows that look, but Oliver doesn't understand a word of what she's saying. "I don't understand," he says flatly, though he's set on edge because her entire demeanor promises nothing good.
But, mercifully, Thea's entire expression changes at those words. "You really don't," she asks slowly, "do you?" She studies him for a moment, frowning as she leans against the ambulance next to him, on the side opposite Felicity. "God, Ollie, you're hopeless sometimes," she adds finally, with a roll of her eyes.
Before she can respond, Oliver sees movement out of the corner of his eye, and he sees the kid from before—Barry, he remembers the name vaguely—talking to one of the detectives, who points to the ambulance. Thea looks between Oliver and the direction of his gaze, frowning in confusion at the sudden change in demeanor of her brother. Oliver knows he's being petty and stupid, but something about Barry Allen sets his nerves on edge. He takes a deep breath, though, for Felicity, knowing she wouldn't appreciate it if he wasn't civil. The last time the two met, she had given him a disapproving look, and he doesn't exactly like that look.
So he takes a deep breath as Barry walks up with a goofy grin on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but then thinks twice about it when he sees Felicity asleep on Oliver's shoulder. His eyes widen in surprise before he says, "Wow she must be more tired than I thought. Sherly doesn't fall asleep without a locked door between her and the world." It's interesting information, and now Oliver understands why she fought to stay awake so hard that night with the Arrow. Barry turns his attention to Oliver. "How are you tonight, Mr. Queen?"
Even though Felicity is still asleep, Oliver feels like he owes her a night of civility toward this kid she seems so fond of. He forces a smile before saying, "As well as I can be under the circumstances. And Mr. Queen was my father, Barry. Oliver will work fine." He motions toward Thea. "This is my sister, Thea—I don't think you two have met."
Thea's eyes narrow immediately, and Oliver knows that look, too. It's different from the last one, but it does nothing for his nerves. It's like watching a timer on a bomb, Oliver thinks. "You can call me Miss Queen," she says hotly, prickling. Oliver shoots her a glance, but she ignores it. Barry lets out an awkward chuckle in response, and Oliver can't blame him—Thea can be terrifying in the right situations.
"Let me wake her up," Oliver says finally, already knowing Felicity would tear them all apart if Oliver tried to carry her to Barry's car. He shakes her shoulder gently. "Hey," he says gently, but, instead of waking, she nestles deeper into his shoulder. He tries to ignore the feeling that runs through him—whatever it is—and says instead this time, "Felicity." Something in his voice must sound familiar because she actually wakes up this time, eyes blinking wildly as she tries to pull her mind out of the fog. Her eyes finally focus on Oliver, and there's a question in her expression. "You fell asleep," he says gently, by way of explanation, and he can see realization dawn in her eyes as she remembers all that happened. "Barry is here to take you home."
For some reason unknown to him, she turns scarlet before sitting upright so fast she wobbles. He steadies her with a hand on her elbow, and she stretches her feet back down into her shoes, and, for the first time, Oliver notices there are pandas on them. He has to fight back a smile—every time he answers a question about her, another pops up in its place. Still, he knows it's not the time to ask, so he rises from the bumper of the ambulance and offers her a hand up, which she takes with a smile. Felicity apparently only does half-asleep conversation with the Arrow.
She takes off his jacket as she rises, handing it back to him. "Thank you," she says, her voice still coated in sleep. "I mean, not just for the coat. For the company, for letting me fall asleep on your shoulder like a five-year-old..." She shakes her head, forgetting that ringing in her ears, and Oliver steadies her when she wobbles. "For everything. I appreciate it."
He nods once, letting her know it was no problem whatsoever. "Get some rest," he says finally, after a long moment of just looking at her. "You've earned it after all of this. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," she murmurs back, and Oliver is forced to watch her walk away. He doesn't like it, but he'll be seeing her soon enough. After all, the Arrow did promise her tonight, so he'll see her again.
Thea rolls her eyes and scoffs before walking away, too. "God," she groans under her breath, "watching you two makes me wonder how we're a species."