Christmas and other risky ventures 5/5
I know 2017 isn’t exactly brand-new, but, still, I want to wish you a very happy new year and only the best for the upcoming months. Also, I hope you’re still clinging to your Christmas spirit a little bit, because this is the final and most Christmassy chapter. It also involves spoilers for The Flash’s winter finale - just so you know and proceed with adequate caution. I hope you like it nevertheless.
Albi, I’ve said it before; I’ll say it over and over again: you are amazing and I can’t thank you enough.
Happy reading. Love, Jules.
As always, crossposted to A03 and ff.net.
Scrooge you, Charles Dickens
Heavy raindrops bursting on Oliver’s forehead startled him awake. His eyes snapped open, but only the darkness of the night welcomed him, chased away for an instant by a crackling thunderbolt. As thunder rumbled around him, he fought to get off the wet ground, limbs heavy, mind slow. Shaking the fog of unconsciousness and snapping into alertness was harder than before, making Oliver wonder if he had jumped more than ten years. He felt groggy and disorientated and the heavily pouring rain didn’t make it any easier. Jerking his head, he tried to clear his mind. The grip on his bow tight, he blinked against the rain and finally realized he was in Star City’s Central Park. His latest time jump had dumped him right next to the big Christmas tree. Earlier this month, its ceremonial lighting had been his bittersweet, mayoral duty, reminiscent of a more hopeful moment. Right now, the tree was nothing but a darker silhouette in the darkness of the park. The Christmas lights wrapped around it were dark, just like the lamps next to the path. Oliver looked around. He was alone—which wasn’t surprising, considering the raging thunderstorm. Was it possible that he had returned to 2016 and the horrible weather of Christmas Eve? But why were all lights off? The question had just entered his mind when a red light flashed. A blast hit his face, stretching his hood around him, and the familiarity of it kept him from taking a defensive position. “Welcome back.” Barry Allen sent Oliver a half-smile and moved next to him, putting his hand on his friend’s neck.
Oliver hardly had time to close his eyes and brace himself for what he knew was coming. In the next millisecond, he felt like a heavy weight was pressing down on his chest forcing all air out of his lungs. His feet dangled uselessly behind him, his hand fisted his bow, his arrows rattled in the quiver on his back, his stomach started to revolt. Seconds later, his feet touched solid ground and he could breathe again. He inhaled deeply, filled his lungs to calm his nerves and stomach. He would never get used to, let alone enjoy, the sensation of speeding with Barry. Still trying to regain his composure, Oliver opened his eyes to the familiar view of the Bunker. He felt as if he had only been here minutes ago, confronting himself. Luckily, this time he was greeted by another, much more friendly sight: his friends, looking just like he remembered them. He barely had time to register everybody present (Felicity, Thea, John, Donna, Barry, Caitlin, and Cisco) and that only the emergency lighting (basically, Felicity’s computers) was on before Caitlin Snow moved to him. With an accusatory smile, she lifted an injection pen to his neck. “This might sting a little,” she warned and pressed the needle into his skin. It stung a lot. Oliver pressed his lips together, scrunching up his face, only granting himself a hiss. “That should establish synchronicity of your molecules with our space-time and link you in the present.” Oliver nodded. It was a gesture of acceptation and gratitude. Scientifically, the words didn’t mean anything to him, but he understood that his friends had worked hard to find a solution for his problem. They had used their combined expertise to help him, had invested their time on Christmas Eve to save him. He trusted their skills and their… whatever they had injected into his system, even if he couldn’t even begin to fathom how any of this worked. It felt strange that one stinging injection should be the cure after everything that had happened, but Oliver had once seen flashing lights clear Barry’s rage-filled mind, and that had also been science way over his head. Meeting Caitlin’s eyes as she sent him a small smile, a wordless nod suddenly didn’t feel enough to Oliver. Following a sudden urge rooted in everything he had experienced in the last hours, he said, “Thank you.” Surprise showed on Caitlin’s face and that told Oliver that she knew him well enough that she hadn’t expected him to actually say it. Her smile turned bigger, “Of course.” “Time travel without a Delorian,” Thea said, walking toward him, a smirk on her face. “Are you sure you did that right?” “No,” Oliver answered, absolutely serious. “Not sure at all.” His sister hugged him strongly and Oliver held on just as tight. He hadn’t met Thea in any of the stops he had made in time and didn’t know if his future self had told the truth about her being with her family on Christmas Eve, but Oliver chose to believe himself. He needed her to have a happy future. He felt unsettled by everything that had happened to him tonight, by everything happening to him in the future, by possibilities that might or might not be set in stone. Being so close to his sister, feeling her worry in the way she hugged him despite her nonchalant words, didn’t exactly help to ground him. “We’ll know if it works in the next ten, fifteen minutes,” Cisco said from behind Thea. “If he doesn’t do the time warp by then, we should be fine.” He looked at his watch. “So much for Joe’s Christmas party.” A pang raced through Oliver. He had ruined everybody’s Christmas Eve. They didn’t want to be here in the Bunker with him; they had better things to do. And suddenly it hit Oliver that Barry was here, but his girlfriend Iris wasn’t. He was about to send them all away, to go and be with their families and loved ones, when Barry smirked, “Not a problem.” Oliver expected the blast before it hit his face. A whirl of red light rushed around the room for two… eventful seconds and suddenly the Bunker was crammed with decorations. Evergreen garlands laden with ribbons and Christmas balls wrapped around the handrail of Felicity’s work station, the salmon ladder, and the biometric cases housing the mannequins that now also donned Santa hats. Springs of mistletoe dangled from the ceiling and lit candles stood on nearly all flat surfaces, their flames flickering wildly in the blast reminiscent of Barry. Wearing his red Flash suit, mask up, he stood next to Oliver’s desk, which usually held arrow-making equipment, now replaced with a punch bowl and mugs. Barry raised the ladle, “Eggnog?” The question was met with stunned silence and then—collective approval. The serious and stiff atmosphere vanished instantly. Oliver saw the people around him relax, watched Caitlin turn to Felicity to compliment her dress and Donna confront Barry about the lack of a menorah. (One was added in a flash.) Thea reached for Oliver’s hand, gave it a quick, supportive squeeze, and joined the others by the eggnog. Oliver watched from the sidelines, his right still holding on to his bow, his heart too heavy to go and mingle just yet. “You okay, man?” John asked, moving to him. Slowly, Oliver nodded, but the look on his best friend’s face told him that his answer wasn’t believable. He shifted his weight and admitted, “It was a weird night.” “That says a lot, coming from you.” John crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you want to talk about it or do you need a minute?” The question proved how well his partner knew him. A weak but thankful smile showed on Oliver’s face and he answered by stating, “You should go be with Lyla and John, Jr. Didn’t you tell me that you have to leave a Santa trail?” “I do,” John confirmed, “I’ll need a flashlight, though, since a lightning bolt took out the power in nearly all of Star City.” The men shared a long, loaded look until John asked, “Are you sure you’re okay on your own?” Oliver gestured across the room, “I’m not alone.” Seeing the doubt in John’s features and getting the unspoken hint that Oliver could be lonely in a room full of people, he said, “I’ll go home with Thea—if I don’t time jump.” “I’m sure you won’t,” his friend said, sounding sure. “I didn’t really understand the science, but our three geniuses worked hard on countering the effects of Bellamy.” Hearing the name shocked Oliver. He had forgotten about the Meta! He had been too absorbed in his own drama to think of him. “Bellamy! I have to—” “Do nothing,” Barry cut in. “We locked him up a week ago. Guess how surprised we were to find you had trouble with him.” Oliver really, really hated time travel. Not to mention that Bellamy being neutralized already felt weirdly anti-climatic and strangely unsatisfying. Oliver wished he could’ve confronted him again, locked him up himself. The distaste must’ve shown on Oliver’s face, since John gave his shoulder a heavy pat, “Don’t even try to make sense of it; it’s crazy.” His eyes danced between the two other men, “If anything comes up, call me, okay?” Oliver nodded. “Merry Christmas, John.” “Merry Christmas,” John answered, gave Barry a nod, and headed over to the others for a quick goodbye. “Here,” Barry caught Oliver’s attention, holding a mug out to him. “I don’t care much for eggnog.” “It’s Christmas,” Barry countered as if that was the only argument needed, not lowering the mug, looking at Oliver expectantly. The two men stared at each other. Barry’s gaze was a playful challenge while Oliver answered with open rejection—and it was the realization of that difference, the memory of a future Christmas Eve spent alone and lonely that made Oliver give in. Maybe this was the first step for preventing the future he had visited from ever happening, not rejecting his friend’s offer. (It also might not mean anything in the grand scheme of things, but it most definitely couldn’t hurt.) Finally, Oliver let go of his bow. Carefully, he put it onto the DNA-sequencer and took the offered eggnog to click mugs with the Speedster. (He was still in his full costume, and Oliver couldn’t fault Barry for not wanting to reveal his identity to Donna.) Taking the tiniest sip confirmed Oliver’s earlier claim: he didn’t care much for eggnog. He swallowed and glanced around the room, finding everybody in conversation. It was an unfamiliar sight, but he really liked it. Normally people weren’t this causal in the Bunker. Letting loose around here meant training without a specific opponent in mind. Thinking of it now, it made sense to Oliver that somebody not part of his inner circle initiated it. He made a silent vow to turn the gathering on Christmas into a tradition. “Thank you,” Oliver said, “that was a nice idea.” “I seemed like you all needed a little break.” Oliver huffed a confirmation. It felt like truer words had never been spoken. For a short moment both men stood next to each other, silent, looking ahead. The events of the previous hours filled Oliver’s mind, knowing that it would bug him forever paired with his trust in Barry made him confess, “I went to the future.” He felt his friend stiffen next to him, but continued, speaking quietly and calmly. “What I found there… wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped for.” He turned to face the man dressed in his red suit, “My older self told me that nothing good comes from knowing the future—and that I should just ask you.” Barry swallowed heavily. Finally he said, even quieter than Oliver, “I accidentally went to the future a few days ago. I saw…” His voice cracked and he seemed to settle for, “my worst nightmare.” Another heavy second followed, then determination captured Barry. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and looked Oliver in the eyes as he stated, “I’ll stop that from happening.” “Didn’t you tell me that time wants to happen? Back when we fought Vandal Savage.” (Back when Oliver started making the mistake that apparently defined his future.) “That was the past,” Barry explained. “You can’t change things that have already happened. But the future isn’t set yet. We have our own future in our hands.” There was a certain urgency in his voice that sounded like desperate determination. “We control our own future.” Slowly, Oliver nodded. He did so in support for Barry as well as in acknowledgement of his words. Whatever Barry had seen in his future, it had shaken him to his core. Oliver could relate to that perfectly. As he could relate to the desperate need to feel like you had control over your own life. Getting a glimpse of what lay ahead of him felt life-changing and brought the need to make a choice. Oliver could either be disheartened by what he had seen, just give in and give up, or he could step up, take charge, and make some life-changing decisions. Oliver, of course, had always been too stubborn to simply accept things. Suddenly the echo of words he had heard even though they hadn’t been spoken yet vibrated through him; a shiver followed them. “He never time travelled.” “What?” Barry frowned. “My older self. He told me that he never time travelled.” He fixed Barry. “He should remember that, right? If it happened in his past, shouldn’t he… gain the memories or something?” “I…,” Barry hesitated and finally settled for, “Probably.” Seeing Oliver’s stare, he added a shrug, “I’m not sure, man. I always kept my memories, but it was always me changing time, so…. Probably.” After staring at his friend for another long moment, Oliver nodded. He’d take that answer, gladly, because “probably” brought a possibility along. “I might’ve already changed the future.” His heart felt lighter. Oliver knew that he was taking a chance, but he had risked things on ‘maybes’ so many times before—a “probably” felt like better odds already. “Yeah,” Barry agreed and asked, compassionately, “Was it that bad?” “It was really… dark.” Saying those words, Oliver’s eyes landed on Felicity, pulled to her by an invisible force. As if his glance held weight, she turned to him, meeting his eyes. “I see.” The softness in Barry’s voice gave Oliver the impression that his friend really understood—and it reminded him of something, “Where’s Iris?” The question startled Barry. “At home.” “Why didn’t you bring her?” “Well, it’s your secret lair, your secret identity. And, believe me, I get that it’s your decision who you want to tell. Plus,” Barry smiled that smile that made him look younger than he was, “she said she wanted to start packing.” He paused and added, sounding happy, “We’re moving in together.” “Wow,” Felicity said, joining them. Oliver had felt her approach as well as seen it. She always had her own gravitational field to Oliver. His eyes stayed glued to her. His body attuned to hers. She looked gorgeous in a black dress, embellished with gold, and not even the knowledge that she had put it on with another man in mind could take away the effect the sight had on him. Neither could the fact that she avoided his gaze by looking at Barry. “That’s quick—but I guess speeding things up fits you.” She smirked, taking the sting out of her words. “And I’m hardly one to talk: Oliver and I moved in together after six weeks. But, to be fair, that whole thing had been one and a half years in the making.” She flinched, the eggnog sloshing in the mug she held. Talking quicker, she continued, “But I guess you and Iris have even more history—and you already lived together for years. So, you should know what to expect.” She bit her lower lip, suddenly awkward. Oliver hadn’t seen that gesture in a long time. When he had met Felicity, it had been a constant in their interactions, but it had become less and less frequent—just like her habit of stumbling over her words. Now it only happened when Felicity was nervous, when her mind was occupied by things she didn’t want to address, when her emotions were raw. Barry remained unfazed. “That’s true. It really was about time.” He lifted his mug. “I’ll get some more eggnog.” His reaction proved that Barry knew Felicity, too. With one last smile he made his way over to the punch bowl, leaving the other two in an awkward silence. Digging his brain for a way to start the conversation and playing for time, Oliver took a sip of his eggnog. Tasting the awfully sweet and creamy drink, he shuddered. “I know…. Turns out, Team Arrow is very anti-Nog.” Felicity gestured to Thea trying and failing to inconspicuously set her mug on the conference table. “It’s a Team Flash thing.” “I guess pouring it out would be impolite.” “And people say you have no manners.” The teasing was clearly audible in Felicity’s voice, it also showed in the way her eyes sparkled. Oliver enjoyed seeing it, enjoyed the banter but couldn’t join in. Serious, he stated, “Well, I did eavesdrop tonight.” That was an awful way to start the conversation he wanted to have. He realized it as soon as the words left his lips. But now they were out in the open and all Oliver could do was power on. He met Felicity’s eyes, “I apologize. At first I wanted to find out what year I had jumped into, but then…. I’m really sorry, I know nothing was meant for me to hear.” Felicity hesitated. “When did you start listening?” “When you uncorked the wine.” “Wow.” Felicity took a huge sip of her eggnog—and made the most adorable disgusted face. Oliver kept his face even, this wasn’t the right moment to smile. “I know,” he agreed to everything she’d expressed with one word. “Felicity,” he said softly, gaining her full attention, “your mother’s right. You are not defined by a man—you are much too remarkable. I know that you referred to what we’re doing here and your need to make up for things that really weren’t your fault when you said you don’t know who you are on your own…. But being Overwatch doesn’t define you either. You are too smart and too skilled to reduce your life to what’s happening in this Bunker. You told me you wanted more out of life—and I think you shouldn’t lose sight of that. Even if that means starting a family with a guy named Grant in Coast City.” “What?” While listening to him, Felicity’s eyes had turned soft, but now she blinked, surprised. “Who? What?” A silent curse made Oliver press his lips together. That wasn’t exactly the point he had wanted to make. Even if that information was very prominently on his mind, he was mad at himself for letting it slip. “I mean,” he said, detouring, “whatever feels right for you moving forward from here, I’ll deal with it.” He couldn’t say ‘be okay with it’, because he knew he wouldn’t be. He had seen that he couldn’t. “Still….” Felicity said, using her talent to unerringly tug at the strand of conversation Oliver didn’t want to follow, “Grant in Coast City… that feels awfully specific.” Oliver sighed, knowing he couldn’t not answer without breaking his honesty vow. “I jumped to 2026, met myself, and he told me you’d moved to Coast City with a guy named Grant. He also said you were spending Christmas Eve with your family.” “Wow.” Felicity visibly searched for words, then she frowned. “Coast City is a very tech-friendly city. They launched a project for city-wide, free WiFi, aiming for 50 mbps—which is ambitious but doable. I heard that Kord Industries wants to open a subsidiary there and that really makes sense. If you want to start somewhere in our branch of industry, you should start there.” Her eyes lit up, “Did I start that start-up I’m thinking about? Did older Oliver tell you?” A pang raced through Oliver. Hearing her obvious excitement was disheartening. Instantly, he felt bad, selfish. It had been months she had shown excitement about anything, which was a pity because an excited Felicity was one of the best things in his life. He shook his head. “No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t say anything else. He only let that information slip by accident.” “Sounds like some things never change.” Feeling caught and chided, Oliver pressed his lips together, glancing at the floor. It was justified, he knew. Still, Felicity tensed next to him, her hand closed around her mug, the excitement gone in a heartbeat. An awkward silence settled over them. This time Felicity ended it, admitting, “It’s weird, getting that glimpse into the future—and I didn’t even time travel and meet my older self.” An interested spark in her eyes, she asked, “What’s Oldiver like?” Swallowing all the dismissive things that danced on the tip of his tongue, he said, “Nothing like I ever want to become.” Slowly, Felicity nodded. “But his suit’s cool,” Oliver added, feeling the need to lighten the mood. Silence followed. Again. Oliver hated how stiff and searching this conversation was when Felicity and he had always been able to talk to each other. They had always known what to say to the other one—and it couldn’t be any other way. Actually, it wasn’t. Oliver knew perfectly what he wanted to tell Felicity. He cleared his throat, chasing a lump away. “I got a good look at my life tonight. I saw that I have to change some things; I want to change some things, do things differently—and I know I already said that last year….” He sighed, feeling like a broken record, like every step of progress he had ever made had never been permanent, always a fluke, always destroyed by falling back into single-minded patterns. All the second chances he had already been granted crashed down on him in that moment, making him doubt that he deserved yet another one. “You already did things differently tonight.” Felicity’s soft voice cut into his depressed thoughts. “You didn’t have to reveal yourself to my mom—or tell her about William.” “I wanted her to know. I want you to be able to talk to Donna without barriers.” “Depending on the pressure point, I don’t know if my mom can keep your secret.” “Felicity, I saw your mom stand up to Cooper. I know Smoak women can handle pressure. And I’m absolutely sure: if the situation comes and she cracks, I’m okay with it.” A blush crept onto Felicity’s cheeks that made her look even prettier. Now it was her trying to lift the mood. “We should still try to keep her from ever getting into such a situation.” “We will,” Oliver promised, meaning it. Felicity looked at him closely. He could practically see the thoughts piling up and running through her head. She licked her lips in that nervous habit he knew so well. “You apologized. For lying.” He frowned. Why did she feel like she had to mention that? He had apo— No, he suddenly realized, a cold shiver of shock freezing him, he hadn’t! He had never actually told her how sorry he was—for… everything. His voice was hoarse, talking around a lump in his throat he couldn’t swallow down, “I should have apologized a long time ago. I was a bad teammate.” This time the following silence had a different quality. The positivity attached to it was proven by Felicity smiling and pointing her index finger at him. “That is doing things differently.” “I don’t want to fall back into old habits. I’m determined not to default to the man who was on the island alone anymore.” Biting her lip, her eyes shining, Felicity nodded. Oliver, on the other hand, stayed serious. He wasn’t just quoting her words back to her, he was absolutely serious about every word he said and he needed her to know that. Her reaction gave him the impression that she did. It made Oliver suddenly feel lighter… hopeful. There it was again, right in front of him: a possibility that his future might be brighter than he dared to imagine, another second chance he didn’t deserve but he wanted more than anything to finally, finally make things right. To be the better, honest, loyal teammate the woman he loved deserved. “Felicity?” His lips moved without much thought, following the hope roaming inside him, daring to do another thing differently and actively pursue what he wanted, to fight for his own future. “Would you go to dinner with me?” Surprised, she looked at him. Then her features softened, a small smile lit up her beautiful face. “Not yet.” (The End)
Tagging the wonderful @marniforolicity [you are amazing, thank you!] @islandgirlbabble @jacksos1
