Jumping Off the Cliff 1/2

Author: dettiot

Rating: T

Summary: Felicity and Oliver are standing on the verge of a precipice without realizing it. What happens after they jump-and when they realize each other has jumped, too? Sequel to Holding Your Breath, to be followed by Blinded by Love and Daring.

Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Note: Originally, this whole story was the start of the sequel to Holding Your Breath. But when I realized how much time I was taking, I thought these moments deserved to be their own story. So this sets up where Felicity and Oliver are, right before they're thrown back together. I hope you enjoy seeing Felicity's steps toward recovery-you'll get my take on Oliver's return in the next chapter.

Living at risk is jumping off the cliff and building your wings on the way down. Ray Bradbury

XXX

New York Times, September 19, 2012

Hansen Found Guilty On All Counts

In a resounding verdict, Harold Evans Hansen was found guilty of third-degree assault, attempted manslaughter, and computer-aided stalking in a Starling City courtroom yesterday. Hansen's conviction came after over three years of detective work by the Starling City Police Department and the Federal Bureau of Investigation and a prolonged trial, due to allegations of malpractice by both the defense and the prosecution.

Hansen's victim, Felicity Smoak, is a well-respected author and expert on women, technology and society. The publication of her book, Invading the Treehouse: Why Women Are Needed in Technology, prompted considerable discussion on the role of women in society-and enraged Mr. Hansen. He was accused of stalking Ms. Smoak through online channels, and then, on December 22, 2007, he attacked Ms. Smoak in an alley only a block away from the Starling City Police's headquarters. Ms. Smoak was left bleeding and beaten in the alley for forty-five minutes before she was found.

The attack served not only as a referendum on the SCPD, one of the largest and most underfunded police departments in America, but also on the growing prevalence of cyber crime: illegal activities which occur online. Ms. Smoak had just left the SCPD station, where she had planned to formally report the online harassment she had been experiencing for several weeks, when she was attacked.

With the guilty verdict, Hansen is now facing the sentencing portion of his trial. His lawyers have already indicated they plan to appeal the conviction.

"I am grateful that after so many years, I can begin putting my attack in the past," Ms. Smoak commented during her post-trial press conference. "At this time, I just want to get back to my life: get back to writing books and watching Netflix and being with those who care about me, without thinking about my attacker."

XXX

The shivers woke up Felicity Smoak. It had been several days since that had happened. She had hoped it meant she was finally starting to adjust to her new world. To a world that didn't hold the same kind of fear as before.

But instead, she just got another reminder of how far she still had to come, when she awoke to the sensation of her skin crawling and her muscles tensed.

Taking a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes in spite of her blurry vision and said out loud, "You're safe. You're free. And you're strong."

It had been something her therapist had suggested, back when she could afford therapy. That Felicity needed to develop a mantra, something to focus on when she had flashbacks, when she felt like she was back in that alley, bloody and cold in the chilly December twilight.

Most of the time she felt foolish for needing the crutch. But she couldn't deny that it did help with the shivers.

Her hand reached out to the small table next to her bed, fumbling for her glasses. Sliding them on, her world came into focus and she sat up. A small sigh escaped her lips as she took in the detritus of her last few days: coffee mugs dotting each table, dirty socks forming an infestation at the base of her coffee table, and printouts and computer parts scattered among the food containers on most surfaces.

Maybe Sara was right and it was time for her to do some cleaning. Especially now that she had completed her latest contract job and had some rare free time.

After she had finished up last night, Felicity had called Sara to give her the news. Her friend/bodyguard/assistant had immediately suggested going out to celebrate, but Felicity had managed to persuade Sara to stay in. So they had shared some Chinese and some wine, but not before Sara had looked around Felicity's studio unhappily.

"I know you're a nerd and all, but do you really like living like this?"

Felicity shrugged as she dug into her orange chicken. "When I'm working, all I notice is when the coffee runs out. You should have seen the way my dorm room looked when I was working on my first book."

"I guess being a genius gives you a bad sense of smell," Sara had said with a bit of a laugh, before reaching out and gently touching Felicity's shoulder. "If you want any help, just say the word."

Not for the first time, Felicity felt a swell of gratitude for having Sara in her life. If you had told her five years ago that her best friend would be the girl who was Oliver Queen's last conquest before being shipwrecked, Felicity would have checked them for signs of alcoholism. But it was true: Sara Lance had become her rock.

Laurel's younger sister had come into her life a year ago, when the trial against her attacker had begun. Felicity had needed help but couldn't afford to hire anyone-and was too depressed and lost and lonely to see that she needed someone to help her carry the load.

That was when Captain Lance and Laurel had staged an ad-hoc intervention and told Felicity that she would let Sara help her. Not only was Sara fun and cheerful, she also had a natural empathy that was soothing for Felicity. And with her martial arts training, Sara could protect Felicity. Not that it was necessary, Felicity knew. Her attacker had been-

Just thinking about him had made Felicity's grip on her chopsticks tighten. She closed her eyes and went over all the facts. The trial had been concluded three weeks ago. The man who beat her senseless was sitting in Iron Heights, waiting to find out just how long he would be staying in prison. There was no one out there, planning to hurt her, wanting to hurt her.

"Hey," Sara said softly. She very carefully did not touch Felicity. "You want to watch a movie?"

Nodding quickly, Felicity opened her eyes and stuffed some chicken into her mouth. Sara reached forward and picked up a remote, navigating her way towards Netflix and putting on one of the action comedies she enjoyed.

And for a little while, as the hero quipped and punched his way towards the thrilling finale and got the girl, Felicity managed to hold back her fears.

Coming out of her memories, Felicity took another look at her apartment and gave a determined nod. The first order of business for today was some cleaning.

Well, no. The first order of business was coffee.

Going to the small coffee maker, Felicity put together what she needed for the bargain appliance to make a decent cup of coffee. Her beloved Paolo had been the last thing she had sold when the money got tight: medical bills and living expenses had eaten up her savings quickly, and without a new book for several years, her royalties had started decreasing recently. But she was okay. There was the contract work she was doing. And now that the trial was over, she could maybe start thinking about writing again. At least things weren't so bad as they had been a few months ago, when she thought she'd have to take a job at her local Tech Village.

That would have been bad. Not because she was too good for the work or anything like that. But because she hated the thought of not putting her mind to full use, to wasting her degrees like that. Plus, the polo shirts at Tech Village were seriously ugly.

With a shake of her head, Felicity focused on getting the coffee maker started. Then she picked up her tablet as she waited for the coffee to brew. She was slowly dipping her toe back into social media, after shutting down her accounts for years. It was nice, to feel like she was part of the bigger world again. Nice to form connections with people.

After what had happened to her, it had been so tempting to just . . . give up. On living, on people, on the world. To expect the worst from anyone she encountered. And for a little while, she had. Kinda. But then there were the Lances, and her attorney Jean Loring, and her mother-so many people who reached out to her and helped her be strong. Not to mention all the strangers who had offered their support and encouragement during the last five years.

Now that the trial was over, now that she could start moving on, Felicity was ready to figure out what came next. The next chapter.

The sight of an email from Laurel in her inbox made her smile a little. Because she had a feeling this would help answer that question.

XXX

"Laurel, I don't know how many different ways I can say no," Felicity said tiredly, resting her forehead against her propped-up hand.

"Telling me no over and over still doesn't answer my question, Felicity-it doesn't tell me why," Laurel retorted, her voice sharp. It had been a long time since Felicity had heard that tone in Laurel's voice. It was her agent voice. Had it been so long since Laurel played that role in her life that Felicity had managed to forget how cutting it was?

The answer was yes. Laurel had been one of her biggest supporters, ever since she had found out about what had happened to Felicity. The fact that Laurel had left New York and returned to Starling City-something she had vowed would never happen unless absolutely necessary-was proof of that. Laurel had been her friend for years. But now that she was trying to be her agent, Felicity missed friend!Laurel.

Because how could she tell agent!Laurel that there was no way she would write a memoir about the last five years of her life?

To Laurel, it made good business sense. An autobiographical memoir was bound to be a bestseller, especially when you considered it would be Felicity's first book in five years. "You need to get your side of the story out there, Felicity. Reclaim the narrative."

It was the kind of thing a therapist would say; in fact, Felicity's therapist had urged her to do just that. It made Felicity wonder darkly if Laurel had paid off her therapist to get access to their session notes.

Which was just crazy talk, Felicity told herself. And . . . even if Laurel was being more agent than friend right now, Felicity needed Laurel to do that. After all, she had to write something. Her royalties weren't what they once were, and her publisher had gone above and beyond for Felicity over the last five years. It was time for Felicity to pay them back for their support.

"I . . . I'm just not ready to go there, Laurel," Felicity said quietly, feeling a twinge of shame at how weak she sounded. "Is there any kind of compromise we can come up with?"

There was a long silence, and then Laurel sighed heavily. "Okay. What about the articles you've written over the years? I might be able to persuade Ex Astris to publish them as a collection . . . but only if you'd be willing to write some kind of foreword. Something that touches upon your experiences, but not in great detail. Could you handle that?"

She wanted to say no. To say that she never wanted to talk about that December day again. That with the trial over, there was no one else that needed to know what had happened to her. She didn't want to bleed to satisfy the idle curiosity of people who could care less about her.

But that wasn't a choice. She had to do this. So even though her skin crawled just thinking about it, Felicity nodded, gripping her phone a little tighter. "Okay, Laurel."

"I know this isn't easy, Felicity," Laurel said, her voice a bit softer. "But you need to start moving on. This will help, I think."

"I hope so, too," Felicity said, trying to sound okay with all this. "Is there anything else?"

The sound of tapping computer keys came through the phone, reminding Felicity of the days when she wasn't so scared of her computer. And that thought made her feel sad . . . and more motivated than she had felt in a while. Perhaps Laurel was right, after all.

"No, that's it for now. I'll call you later this week, after I've talked to Martha," Laurel said, referring to the head of Ex Astris. "In the meantime, just take it easy. Maybe have a little fun? Sara's good for that."

For the first time during this call, Felicity smiled. "Yeah, she is. One of these days, the three of us should spend a weekend together."

"We will," Laurel said, her voice catching slightly. Not for the first time, Felicity wondered what was the story with the Lance sisters-why there seemed to be such a chasm between them, even though they both clearly loved each other. But this definitely wasn't the time to ask, so Felicity just said goodbye to Laurel and hung up the phone.

Which left Felicity alone with her thoughts.

She wished that she could find something to distract herself. That she could call Sara and have her come over for a movie marathon, or go out to a coffee shop with a good book and get lost in someone else's world. A better world, where people didn't have any reason to suffer.

But as nice as that sounded, that didn't make any sense, Felicity reminded herself. That would be a utopia, and everyone knew that utopia meant "nowhere" in Greek-in other words, it was a place that didn't really exist.

People got hurt and suffered and became discouraged. It was a fact of life. It had happened to her. But it was up to Felicity to make sure that wasn't all there was to her.

So she would write the foreword to the article collection. She would start doing research again, looking for the subject for her next book. And she would get out of this apartment. She would be part of the world she lived in. The real world, not some perfect world that didn't exist.

Standing up, Felicity began gathering her tablet, her jacket and her purse. She would go to the coffee shop she had practically lived in, five years ago. She would get a cup of coffee and read some news on her tablet and people-watch.

And maybe she would start considering Sara's idea that she should dye her hair blonde.

XXX

"Are you sure about this, Sara?" Felicity knew she sounded worried. Because that's what she was: worried.

After all, she had never dyed her hair before.

"Laurel and I used to do this all the time. You're in good hands," Sara replied cheerfully, rubbing the smelly dye into Felicity's hair. "And you're going to look hot when I'm done."

Felicity pursed her lips as she watched Sara in the mirror, then adjusted her glasses. "I don't think so."

Her best friend was very sweet, but Felicity could not see how she could ever be hot. Sara was hot. Felicity? She was sweet. Cute, yes. Maybe even adorable if someone was grading on a curve and she was going up against tortoises or those baboons with the red butt cheeks. But hot? No way.

Sara made a face at her. "You're gorgeous, and it's time you realize that."

She stayed quiet, not wanting to start a fight with someone who held Felicity's head in her hands. But she found herself contemplating Sara's words.

It had been so long since she had really thought about her appearance. Her physical recovery after her attack had been slow. And she had been left with the scars and patches of lumpy skin scattered over her torso. The worst was the scar that ran along her jaw, just underneath her left ear. It was tough for Felicity to not finger it whenever she was nervous. In addition, her eyesight had been damaged enough that she could no longer wear contacts-something that occasionally brought back unpleasant memories of her grade-school nickname: Felicity Four-Eyes.

But even more damaging than the physical impact had been the emotional one. Caring about what she looked like had seemed so . . . insignificant. Not with everything she was facing. Plus, with her already-existing insecurities and the struggle of being a woman in the technology field, she had always tried to keep her looks out of the equation. She liked nail polish and lipstick, spent a lot of time on her hair . . . but never in a way that would make her stand out.

Felicity frowned a little as she looked down at the beige polish on her nails. It was nice and didn't show when it chipped . . . but it was boring. Safe. It had been good during the trial was going on, when she had to present a certain image of herself, but the trial was over. She could start her life over-she could do more.

And maybe that meant taking chances. Ones she had never considered, like dying her hair and wearing blue nail polish and just . . . anything and everything.

"Hey, Sara? Do you have any nail polish I could borrow?"

"Sure," Sara said, sounding a bit distracted as she lifted hanks of Felicity's hair. "I'll bring it over next time. And I think that's about it."

Leaning towards the mirror, Felicity turned her head, taking in the dye that coated her hair. Of course it hadn't changed colors yet, but it was pretty fascinating, how chemicals could make such a difference. It made her want to research how the dye worked.

Sara chuckled, watching as she took off the plastic gloves. "We've got about thirty minutes to wait before you rinse out the dye. Wanna watch some TV?"

Felicity nodded and followed Sara out of the bathroom. While Sara plopped down on the couch and picked up the remote, Felicity went to the coffeepot for some caffeine.

The sound of various programs drifted towards Felicity, but since she had her back to the TV, she didn't realize Sara had stopped on one channel until she heard the music that preceded a breaking news alert on Starling City's local affiliate of one of the major networks. But the anchor's words made Felicity spin around, heedless of the mug of hot coffee in her hand.

"This just in: Oliver Queen is alive. I repeat, Oliver Queen is alive. No further details have been released at this time, but keep watching KQBC as we stay with this story. But first, a few words from our sponsors."

The screen faded to black, and then a commercial for Big Belly Burger began playing. But Felicity barely noticed the ad, because she was still stuck on the fact that Oliver Queen was alive.

What?!

It was like her brain had suddenly crashed and was taking a very long time to reboot. Because . . . what?

The news about Oliver's disappearance had broken while she was still in the hospital. In the daze of pain and boredom she had been in, Felicity had heard nurses and her visitors chit-chatting about the fate of the Queen's Gambit. However, the fact that Oliver Queen was most likely dead hadn't even really sunk in until the first anniversary of his disappearance, when the press of Starling City kicked off a week-long mourning ceremony.

And even then, given what anniversary she had been facing at the same time, the loss of Oliver Queen had never really hit her. Not like his return was doing right now, strangely enough. Because really, she barely had known him and she doubted he even remembered her before he had spent the last five years doing God-knows-what.

"Oh my God," Sara said, her voice sounding thin and breathless.

Her friend's words broke the spell and Felicity immediately snatched up her battered tablet, pulling up as many news feeds as it could take. For some reason, she wanted to know how Oliver was doing. Wanted to know if he was okay. Which probably made her a horrible person, because she had never really considered that when he was missing.

"Felicity?"

Sara's voice interrupted her mad searching, making Felicity feel disorientated as she looked up.

"Are you okay?" Sara asked immediately, looking worried, even as she threw a glance back at the television, clearly checking to see if the newscast was back on.

"I can't believe it," Felicity said, feeling weak in the knees. "This is-this is crazy."

Her friend nodded slowly, looking equally dumbstruck. And Felicity was reminded of how she first encountered Sara Lance. And Felicity was surprised at the the stab of jealousy that memory brought up-that she was jealous that Sara had kissed Oliver Queen.

Which was just ridiculous, because . . . because . . .

But Felicity couldn't come up with a reason.

End, Chapter 1