Chapter Text
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Barry ran over to Felicity's apartment as soon as he heard the news.
Literally.
The fact that her apartment was six hundred miles from where he lived wasn't relevant.
The fact that he'd made her a promise was.
He slipped inside her building, made his way up to the second floor, her apartment.
Heard the muffled crying as he knocked on her door.
Waited endless minutes for her to answer. Was afraid she wouldn't.
“Felicity? It's me, Barry.”
That got the door opened. Felicity was dressed all in black, red-eyed from crying.
“This isn't really a good time, Barry.”
“Felicity, I'm so sorry for your loss.”
“Who told you?” Her voice was hard underneath the tears.
He looked at her with that mix of patience and exasperation she remembered so well. “Felicity, he was my friend too.”
That got him in the door.
“I don't know what I can offer you.” Felicity said, wandering restlessly around her living room. “I haven't gone to the store since...”
“That's fine. I didn't come here to be entertained. I came for you.” He sat on the couch, patted the cushion beside him. She joined him, but at the far end of the couch, as if she didn't trust herself any closer.
“Why?”
“Because I made you a promise. When you first came to Central City, I promised you that if you ever needed me, I'd race over in a heartbeat. Well, I'm here.”
“How did you know?”
“I told you – he was my friend too.” He looked away. “How... how did it happen?”
“Duel. League of Assassins. For...” she visibly stopped herself.
“For what?”
She shook her head. “It doesn't matter now.”
He accepted that. “What can I do to help?”
“Look, Barry, it was sweet of you to come, but... there's nothing you can do. There's nothing I can do. He's gone and he's never coming back. End of story.”
“I don't believe that.”
“You don't want to believe that.” she snapped. “Doesn't change what's real.”
“Maybe. But I believe that believing does change what's real.”
“Your father's still in prison.”
“Not forever.”
Felicity sighed. “I can't believe that way, Barry. If I don't accept that Oliver's dead and move on....”
“Don't turn into him, Felicity.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don't turn into Oliver, Felicity. Build walls. Shut everybody out.”
“Barry. That's what I need to do to survive.”
“But is that all you want to do? Survive?” He turned worried eyes on Felicity. “What happened to living?”
“He died,” she said simply. “Oliver Queen died.”
And then the tears came. Barry scooted over, pulled her into his arms. She came to him, unresisting, allowing herself the comfort of touch, if only for a moment.
And then it was something more. Felicity turned in his arms, started kissing him, hard and hungry, demanding solace, demanding release.
It wasn't love they made that night. No, it was too full of anger and tears for that. But it was relief and release and memorial and memory, and that was enough.
Plenty of time for regrets later.
For now it was a promise kept.