The Ex

Trigger warning: domestic abuse.

By: DKM

Rating: strong T

Pairing: Oliver/Felicity

Season/Episode: Doesn't really matter, set in the future

Category: Extreme angst/hurt/comfort

Synopsis: The moment she stepped into the basement, he knew something bad had happened. Her head was down, her shoulders slumped and slightly trembling. It wasn't until she stepped out of the shadows that the true horror finally made itself known. Trigger warning: domestic abuse.

AN: This is what happens when you combine intense stomach aches with ideas that seem to come out of nowhere. I'm gonna go take a nap now and hopefully feel better when I wake up. Sorry this was a little more intense than the usual stuff. Like I said, it came out of NOWHERE!

Disclaimer: My original idea, but I don't own the characters or the show. Just trying to be creative.

She had been with him for three months. He'd never seen her happier than she was at that point. At first he was jealous of the man who'd stolen her heart, but as time went on, things slowly began to change.

Three months, two weeks and five days into the relationship, he noticed the bruises. They were small, only about the size of fingertips, but there were five of them grouped together around her wrists in a pattern he wasn't unfamiliar with. She'd kept her head down and didn't say a word. He didn't press, just watched her as she sat at her computers, fingers hovering over the keyboard and slightly trembling until she flexed. It was quickly back to work as usual, but he was slightly worried.

Two weeks and three days later, she came in holding her arm at her side and tried to cover the hiss that escaped her lips as she sat at her desk, but he'd easily heard it. His worry grew. This time he asked if she was okay.

"I slipped and fell in the shower." The answer was worrisome, but he still didn't press her. She'd never pressed him about his scars, after all. There was a strong level of trust between them, and he knew when she was ready, she'd tell him what was really going on. Right now, he settled for running her boyfriend's name for any priors, but found nothing to indicate a reason for being worried. Still, instinct told him something was going on, and he always trusted his instincts.

Six days later, she was limping. "I fell down the stairs." She was clumsy, but not that clumsy. Her pain was escalating. Again, he asked her if she was okay. And again, she told him she was, but her voice and her eyes betrayed her. She sounded scared and the fear he saw in those crystalline pools forced him into action.

That night, he'd decided to watch them from a safe distance, something he would quickly grow to regret when he saw them begin kissing on her couch. One thing led to another, and they were soon in her bedroom, the lights off and the curtains closed. He made a hasty exit, heading back to the foundry to quell the jealous rage by shooting tennis balls with arrows.

She'd come in the next day happier than she'd been in weeks, her bright smile and happy eyes reminding him of the double edged sword she walked. This roller coaster ride of emotions was tugging at his heart. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the violence escalated, and he could only pray that she'd come to him before it was too late.

Not even three days later, his fears were quickly realized when she'd skipped work at Queen Consolidated but came instead to the foundry. The moment she stepped into the basement, he knew something bad had happened. Her head was down, her shoulders slumped and slightly trembling. It wasn't until she stepped out of the shadows that the true horror finally made itself known. She sported a split lip and a swollen black eye, and as she gazed up at him, her eyes glistened with unshed tears, the fear finally unmasked and displayed for all the world to see.

"Felicity," he gasped, gently taking her face in his hands.

"Oliver," she whimpered as the tears spilled down her cheeks and ran along his fingers. He wrapped her in a hug so tight he didn't want to let her go. She pressed her face to his chest and cried softly against the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

The strong instinct to protect her kicked in with full force. He held her in his arms until the tears dried then let her to her chair. Her hands were still trembling as she sat down and sucked in several shaky breaths before she said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I thought I could deal with this by myself."

"I'll kill the bastard," he replied with conviction, stroking away the remaining tears with his fingers before he turned to go suit up.

"Oliver, no!" she called out to him. He stopped mid step and turned, puzzled as to why she wanted to protect a man who'd hurt her so much. With a questioning look pointed her way, he waited for an explanation. "We already broke up. You don't have to do this."

"If I don't, who's going to stop him from doing this to someone else?" he asked. "No one has the right to treat another human being the way he treated you. This piece of shit deserves to be put in the ground."

"Why are you doing this, Oliver?" Tears had begun to wet her cheeks again.

"Because nobody gets away with hurting the people I love." His voice was strong and collected as he turned to leave again. Images of putting an arrow through some low life danced in his mind as he grabbed his gear and quickly changed into the green leather and hood. He decided to forgo the green camouflage paint, just grabbing his bow and quiver from the worktable.

"Oliver, wait!" he heard her call out to him just before he made it to the stairs. He turned to find her standing behind him, her eyes full of worry. "You don't have to do this," she whispered. She stepped closer, extending her hand and placing it against his forearm. "I can easily wipe his credit off the map, drain his bank account and put a warrant out for his arrest with just a few keystrokes."

But he shook his head. "Computers and keystrokes won't stop him from doing this to another woman."

"Please don't kill him," she begged.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"I don't want his blood on your hands," she admitted. "You're better than this. You're better than him. You haven't killed anyone since the Undertaking. You don't need to kill him." She was toe to toe with him, her eyes silently begging him to listen.

He paused, relaxing his stance as she stared up at him, still pleading her case. 'You're better than this. You're better than him.' Was he? How could he be? He'd killed people for far lesser offenses. But the glaring fact was that he'd killed people while this guy had just abused them. Yet she'd flat out told him he was the better person.

This was the remarkable thing about her. She believed in him, believed in his crusade, believed in the man beneath the hood. Although she never spoke it, he knew she held him in very high regard. Yes, they didn't always agree on things, but he usually bent to her will and did them as she suggested. She'd turned his life around. She'd brought back the good that had been missing in it. And now she was fighting to protect that good.

He sighed. She was probably the only person in the world who he'd drop everything for at a moment's notice. Had it been anyone else asking him not to go, he would have already been out to door by now, his target in sight, arrow at the ready. But her hand gently squeezing his gloved fingers brought him back.

"Okay," he whispered, "but can I at least put an arrow in him? Somewhere non-life-threatening, of course."

A ghost of a smile gently curled her lips. "Not until after I destroy him online," she said, pulling him towards her computers. Just as she promised earlier, a few keystrokes was all it took to wipe out his credit, transfer all his funds to an abuse victims shelter and send the cops damaging evidence that would put him away for quite some time.

He marveled at her ability to right wrongs that were done to her, just as he'd been trying to right the wrongs his family had wrought on the city. They had become quite the pair. As she turned to face him, he was truly struck by how beautiful she was. Even battered and bruised, her smile still lit up the room. He reached out and pushed back an errant strand of her golden hair before letting his palm rest against her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

"Thank you," she whispered before opening her eyes again. "You can go arrow him now. But you've only got fifteen minutes before the police show up with a search warrant."

"I'll be done in ten," he said. Standing, he grabbed his bow, but before heading out, he wrapped his arms around her and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "You're welcome," he whispered in her ear before letting her go. In moments he was gone, off to satisfy his need for revenge.