I just binge-watched two seasons of Arrow as per my little brother's insistence. While I powered through the pilot and first few episodes, of the first season, for some delectable Amell physique, it was Felicity – Emily Bett Rickards- who really made the show enjoyable and added depth to both Oliver and Dig.
And after this academic year, my freshman year of college, the course load demanded a very intensive writing curriculum. I haven't had the time or desire to write creatively. But after devouring practically any and all Olicity inspired Youtube videos I just feel like so much of the interaction between these two characters will have changed post season two finale. Or maybe changed is a strong word. I don't know. But I do know that I want to explore Felicity in a character study, and her interactions with the other members of Team Arrow. Upon this realization I reached another one, I needed a direction - something that would guide me if I set this drabble/story/Felicity centralized thing post season two during the summer hiatus. Which brings into play HoodSmoaked's Olicity Wishlist. Really I don't know how I stumbled upon this particular list, but my challenge to myself is to write a chapter a day for thirty days incorporating something from the list each chapter.
#1: Oliver & Felicity holding hands (not on a mission or for a sham)
The prospect of living seemed so strange after only thinking about her death. Not that she didn't believe Oliver would come, that he would stop Slade or save the city. She did. The person she hadn't trusted was Slade, of course, thinking that he would kill her without making Oliver pick between herself or Laurel. And herself. How had she found the courage to do what she did? She hadn't believed it when Dig had wrapped her in an all-too-warm hug and whispered how brave she had been into her hair, before kissing her forehead. And when she returned the hug and quietly sobbed into Diggle pecs, he didn't say anything either.
It wasn't until Oliver landed in Hong Kong to board an A.R.G.U.S. aircraft, which would take them to Starling, that the numbness had worn off from the whole thing. Nonstop fighting. Nonstop chaos. Nonstop fearing for her life, or the lives of the people she had grown to know as family. She was hurting.
It was good to hurt. Good to be in pain, Felicity insisted, it meant she had survived. Not that she enjoyed the pain. No, the hurt that was crushing her lungs, and pricking her spine, it was almost too much. Not to mention the bruising she was sporting on her face and body. The glass shards that had cut into her skin. The thin laceration on her neck from the all to sharp sword, a testament to the bloodied mess that would have ensued had she not hit Slade with the serum.
How did they actually do it? What happens now?
Now, you help Oliver regain control of his company. Her mind supplied, while simultaneously staying away from the fact that ousted CEO's do not keep their executive assistants, meaning that she was as jobless as Oliver. And she was done thinking about that. You save him from himself. You have brunch with Diggle and modify the foundry. Maybe she would instate a team meal once a week. Maybe she would take up yoga again like in college. Maybe she would ask Diggle to train her. She would give Roy a hug. She wanted to call her mom and tell her how much she loved her.
When she saw Lyla run up to Diggle on the airstrip before the plane that would take them home she knew it was almost over. Her mind mutinously questioned what Diggle's news for them about Lyla would be, but she tucked that away to be dissected later. That this awfulness was coming to an end and that home was on the horizon, she hadn't believed it, despite having said it to Oliver on the beach.
Felicity didn't remember boarding the plane, or buckling the seatbelt but she didn't miss the intense looks between Diggle and Oliver. Was Lyla pushing Dig into a seat?
She knew the shift in weight beside her was Oliver, felt the hair on her neck stand, and goose bumps raise, before he spoke to give himself away. He smelled like sand and copper, and when she raised her eyes to look at him, she had never seen him as haggard looking as he did now. Not a swaggering billionaire playboy, nor a heroic vigilante, but just a mere man who looked like he had gone from Hell and back.
Felicity had killed any romantic feelings towards Oliver after Russia and had to mentally slap herself when ever she questioned whether the spontaneous shoulder touching was something more. But in the manor, she let herself, stupidly, bask in the untrue proclamation before reality set in and she felt the syringe pressed to her palm. On the beach she was just dumbfounded to be alive, so in awe of Oliver that he had been able to resist the urge to kill Slade that the brain processors weren't running, but now fully functioning she wanted to be angry, wanted to yell at him for not unveiling his plans, for using the feelings that she hadn't been able to hide. But she couldn't, she had been the one to suggest the plan in the first place.
The image of being powerless and struggling against Helena took her mind's eye. That night when she was taken prisoner behind her own desk.
"He is beautiful, isn't he?" Helena had taunted. "Has you fooled into think he fights for the side of angels, of good. But you and everyone else forgets, Lucifer was an angel, too. He was the most beautiful of angels before he fell." Helena hissed while tying up Felicity's hands so tightly that her fingers were tingling. She pulled the bun of Felicity's hair so that both women were eye to eye, and Felicity felt the tendons in her neck stretch painfully. "Oliver is not the man he would have you believe, Fe-li-city."
"Felicity." Not a growl, or a mumble, but somewhere in between. Don't be mad, she hears. Or maybe it is a 'tell me what's wrong' mumble-growl. She wasn't at her peak to decipher what he was actually saying, when he was saying her name. Oliver was so much more than what Slade had him believe. More than what Helena suggested. More than the expectations raised by Laurel, and more than just a definition for Sara to reclaim her past.
She wasn't angry; she was sad. Sad for the future she couldn't touch, for the Oliver that would never be hers. But she wouldn't hold it against him, not when he was so surely trusting her. He had an army of assassins: Diggle, Sara, even Laurel, and the person he choose to be his right hand was her. So she would swallow her damaged pride, ignore her bruised heart, she was his girl, not his girl-girl, and it had never been more clear than today.
"This is the second time I've ever been out of the country." Felicity blurted hands clutching at one another to stop from miming out typing. She wished she had her tablet to hide behind. "I mean, I guess third considering that I've been to Lian Yu twice, and Russia-" Mayday, her mind was screeching, abort mission.
He winced before taking in another shaky breath and reached for her hand. After a moment he changed hands and grabbed her wrist. Strange.
"Are you checking me out?" Her ears grew hot, and Oliver's face softened from the pinched rodent look he had been sporting before. "I mean, are you checking my pulse? Why, the ARGUS people just did that."
"I need to make sure that you are, that you were-"
"I haven't gained any injuries since we ended things. I'm fine. Not really fine, but I'll get there. Definitely not tonight, but soon. And you?"
"The same type of fine that you are, Felicity."
Then they shared the look that they always do. The one where Felicity is sure he is trying to reach her very soul through her eyes. She wanted to tell him how proud she was. How he was becoming the hero she always knew him to be. That even though she knows how much he has to grow, she sees such a difference from the hero sitting beside her and the man who stained the upholstery of her car.
But the plane's engine revs and she grips his hand with both hands. He holds her hands well into the flight, occasionally rubbing the callused pad of his pointer finger across her knuckles. When he makes shushing sounds into her hair, he lulls her into a state of anxiety-less silence, which soon causes her to fall asleep, leaning her head onto his shoulder. She hopes he understands, and that maybe one day she will be able to tell him everything she thinks out loud.
Happy readings, and I hope you stay along for the ride. Also, if able, please review. I have no idea if these characters are in character, and if you have something helpful to add, or even something critical I would greatly appreciate it.