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Chapter Text

The moment Oliver Queen looked into Felicity Smoak’s eyes, he knew he loved her. And not in that high-school-I-love-you kind of way, oh no; in the I-want-you-and-only-you-forever kind of way.

He was sixteen when she tumbled – literally – into his life, spinning his whole world and everything he had ever known upside-down.

Though he had used the library for more…exploratory things in his time, this particular day – a Wednesday to be exact, he was catching up on algebra homework. Contrary to popular belief and his overwhelming reputation, Oliver did actually care every now and again about his grades, and Mr Lynch had made it abundantly clear that if he didn’t pass the next midterm, he’d fail the semester and would have to go to summer school. Even the thought of summer school made him shudder. So there he was in the library, pencil in hand, tapping out some rhythm on his page as he read and reread the equations from the book in front of him, when the double doors flung open and a petite girl with a mass of blonde hair hurtled through and spilled onto the ground in spectacular fashion.

The tiny, adorable shriek that escaped her lips in the split-second it took for her to lose balance, toss her books asunder, and fall to the floor caught his attention immediately, his pencil dropping with a thud onto his notepad.

Others around him lifted their heads in their study stupors long enough to take in the sight and some of them even had the nerve to laugh, but not one of them moved to help the girl.

Oliver, on the other hand, was over to her in a flash, his homework forgotten for the time being. Not normally the first one to help a student in need, he surprised even himself with how quickly he reacted to this complete stranger. Without a second thought, he gathered her books clumsily into his arms and angled them into his chest so he could offer her his hand.

And that’s when it happened.

Her eyes met his; bright blue orbs that looked deep into his as if seeing right down into his soul, their clarity reassuring. Oliver gulped, feeling a fluttery sensation rush through his body.

The timidity with which she accepted his hand pulled a small smile from him, and to put her at ease, he pumped her hand twice once she had eventually given in and helped her to her feet. He tried not to notice how soft her skin was, or how perfectly their hands fit together, or how her glasses sat crookedly on her nose, or how her lips were the brightest shade of pink he had ever seen…but it was all a little too difficult. He’d never been so…taken by someone so quickly. Sure, he instantly knew when a girl was hot, but this girl, this girl, well she wasn’t hot – she was beautiful. And that concept was completely alien to him.

“Thanks,” she said tentatively, her voice exactly as light as he imagined. Licking her lips and pushing a blonde lock behind her ear, she moved to take her books from him but he pulled them away from her teasingly.

“I got ‘em,” he assured, lifting them up and down in illustration.

She smiled up at him and Oliver swore he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Wow, it’s not every day that a hot guy helps me out and offers to carry my books–” she forcibly shook her head as if the action alone could reel her words back in, “- I didn’t mean to comment on your…obvious handsomeness, I was just – I don’t really know. I talk a lot. And I talk out loud a lot and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or make myself look like some kind of weirdo girl that can’t…seem to stop…talking.” Her face scrunched then, forming this utterly adorable expression and Oliver couldn’t keep his grin at bay. “I’m gonna shut up now.”

He laughed quietly, extending his hand out again. “Hi, I’m Oliver Queen.”

She took it without much thought this time, her cheeks blushing. “As in multi-billionaire Oliver Queen?”

“That’s a long first name,” he joked. “But more like:  Oliver Queen, son of multi-billionaires.”

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean…Felicity Smoak.” She ducked her head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that, Felicity.” He loved how her name just rolled off his tongue, as though he was always meant to say it. Oh boy he was in deep already. “Are you new because I don’t remember seeing you around here before?” That was a prime opportunity for him to drop his ‘Because I would have remembered seeing someone so beautiful’ line, but he didn’t want to demote a girl so captivating with something as stupidly expected and cliché as that. He already respected her too much for that.

She nodded, her hair falling over her shoulders with the movement. “Yeah; just transferred. I used to go to a private school in Coast City but my mom got a new job in Starling and apparently this is the best school in the city so…here I am. I actually came to the library to catch up on all the reading I have to do – you guys really have a tough workload, by the way – when well…” she made a flurry of hand movements that didn’t really make much sense but he understood them nevertheless.

“Well let me formally welcome you to Greenwood Academy. Anything you want to know about this place, just ask me. I’m the expert on all things Greenwood. And, you’re in luck. I happen to have the best seat in the library.” He moved toward his table, readjusting her books in his arms so that her science book wasn’t dangling dangerously from his hold.

“Actually,” she interjected with a hand on his shoulder. She quickly yanked it away when she realized what she had done, and Oliver pretended not to notice the lingering heat her touch had left. “I prefer to study alone…” her eyes widened to the point of impossibility, “and I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. You seem really nice and I don’t want you to think that I’m ungrateful for your help and I’m sure you’re a great study partner but—”

“Felicity,” Oliver cut in with a chuckle, placing her books on his table. “I won’t say a word – I promise.”

He pulled out the chair and motioned for her to sit down. “Oh, well…thank you,” she mumbled sheepishly, slinking onto the seat.

“You already said that, too,” he remarked, leaning over her slightly. Her answering smile definitely made his heart do funny things.

He never did get his algebra homework finished.

---

It was a Wednesday when he saw her again.

He planned to grab a coffee before running through a bunch of paperwork in prep for a meeting later when there she stood like a vision in front of him, making his whole body slack.

“Felicity…”

It fell from his lips so naturally that it was as though he had never stopped saying it. It sounded harsher though; the lower, edgier tone making it seem as if it came from someone else. He furrowed his brow at the realization.

She was just as beautiful as he remembered – no, she was more beautiful. Her hair was a brighter shade of blonde than she used to sport, but she still had the skinny glasses and brightly painted lips that he loved so much. His heart swelled, feeling the same tingly buoyancy he had always felt around her. God, she was gorgeous. No matter what, Felicity Smoak somehow extinguished the fire of pressure and lightened his load in the simplest of ways and seeing her now, he suddenly felt lighter than he had in forever. Her mere presence soothed him in ways he never thought possible.

She angled her head to the side, casting a sideways glance, her whole body going still when she registered him. Her mouth opened; a whoosh of breath expelled his way.

“Oliver,” she said back in the same tone of wonderment, his name sounding so musical and so right with her fluffy lilt.

Everything stopped.

Sure it was cliché, but nothing ever feels cliché when you’re in the moment. It just consumes you to the point where it feels normal.

Everything disappeared into the background of his consciousness and all that remained was Felicity, his Felicity, right in front of him. The air thickened, a weird weight of unspoken thoughts and feelings pressing down on them.

And then their eyes locked.

And it was as if he was transported back to that eighteen-year-old boy that felt as though he could do anything as long as he had her. Love was something else, wasn’t it? Her blue depths were open, honest, filled with so much emotion that he relearned a truth he had acknowledged a long time ago: he was desperately in love with Felicity Smoak.

“Hi.”

He had hoped to say something more, something with a little more substance; a perfectly sculpted sentence that encompassed everything that he wanted to say, but words escaped him. That literally was the best he could do in the moment while his brain scrambled to grab hold of the situation. That’s not to say that he didn’t feel like a complete idiot though.

“Hi,” she mimicked breathily, her eyes shining as she examined him. And then, with wary movement, she bridged the gap and wrung her arms around his neck, pulling him oh so gently into a hug. He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening until his arms cautiously brushed around her body, not going so far as to press her into him but doing enough to feel the warmth of her skin through her clothes.

For a second, he closed his eyes and drank in her presence, finding solace in her familiarity. A single flare, a spark, shot through his core, somehow setting alight his otherwise dormant heart and the muscle thumped with purpose as if trying to show him that it was still there, still beating, urging him to hold on.

They’d always fit perfectly together; her head tucking snugly under his chin as his muscles enveloped her securely. This was new and old at the same time; the contrast not lost on him as she broke away awkwardly.

“You’re here. Well obviously you’re here, you’re standing right in front of me plain as day but…” she trailed off, shaking her head imperceptibly, “you’re here.”

He knew what she meant.

He was here.

He was alive.

“Yeah,” he managed to choke out, his throat constricting.

“I mean I knew you were…that you survived on an island and that you’d returned to Starling but…I just never thought I’d…” Oliver could count the times on one hand when Felicity had been at a loss for words and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, hating the fact that he was the one causing it right then. He pretended not to notice how her eyes filled when she lookedat him. “You’re okay?”

She posed it as a question that required an answer. She always did prefer the direct approach.

Oliver very rarely lied to Felicity in all their time together, and though so much of him wanted to sugarcoat the darkness that consumed him daily and spin something about growing and adjusting and how it was a work in progress but that he was really starting to feel more like the old Oliver, he just couldn’t do it. Looking into her blues and finding rest in her affectionate expression made him feel…brave. Stronger, somehow. Only she had ever made him feel that way - like he was a better person, someone worthy of a woman like her, someone worthy in general. It was amazing how someone, a single soul, could draw out that sense in another person.

He swallowed hard, a strangled cough slipping out. “I, uh…I don’t think you want to hear the answer to that,” he replied lowly.

Her face fell, crestfallen.  Her hands instinctively moved toward him but she reined them back, clasping them in front of her. “Oliver-”

“It’s been a long time, Felicity.” He hated how empty his voice was, how it betrayed him, how it exposed him as the broken man he was.

“7 years,” she supplied after a short beat. “7…” she blew out a breath, “…really long years.” There was something he had never heard in her tone before that caught him, his jaw tightening so much his teeth groaned.

“I…” What could he say? I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me. I shouldn’t have let you go. There wasn’t a day on that island when I didn’t think about you. I love you. “How long have you been back in Starling? I didn’t know you were…that you were here.”

Whatever he wanted to say, whatever he should have said, that wasn’t it. Nervous, he rubbed his thumb between his fingers, a tick he had acquired in childhood.

She toyed with her bracelet, spinning it around her wrist distractedly. She used to do that a lot. “Only about a week. I was in Central City for a while working for a software firm but the boss was an ass and the pay was pretty terrible and my cubicle always smelled like fertilizer - and you didn’t need to know any of that…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, pained, her eyes no longer looking his way, “especially now. Anyway, I, uh, have an interview at Queen’s Consolidated as an IT consultant so if that goes well I could be based here permanently.”

“At QC?” he echoed. “Great place to work.” He went for teasing but it came off too flat, too forced. Why couldn’t he just speak to her? There was so much to say and yet, there was nothing at all.

“So I’ve heard.”

“I can put a good word in for you,” he offered. “I know nobody knows computers like you do. And you could say that I have a little sway when it comes to who we hire.”

She cocked her head to the side curiously. “We?”

He gave a short, perfunctory nod, gesturing to himself with a loose hand. “Oliver Queen, CEO.”

“Oh, wow, I didn’t know…that’s great, Oliver. I know you used to talk about following in your father’s footsteps all the time so I don’t know why the thought never even crossed my mind; I guess I just never thought you’d actually do it.” She slammed her eyes shut, biting her lower lip. “That’s not what I meant! I just –”

His lips twitched. “It’s okay - I never thought I’d do it either. I hated the idea of being CEO and I’m pretty sure I made that clear a number of times. But the family business needed my help and so, here I am.”

“Here you are.” Once again her eyes appraised him with a sense of awe as though she couldn’t truly believe what she was seeing. But just as soon as the light was there, it was gone and she, as if jolting back to reality, shook her head and checked her watch hastily, “I’m running late for my interview so…” she stopped, gazing at him in confliction.

Please don’t go. Not again.

“Of course. You have to go.”

They locked stares; his words acting like a trigger and cutting through everything, echoing what he said the last time they saw one another, the memory evidently still fresh in both of their minds.

The blonde moved away, intent on leaving but Oliver reacted, reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder. The movement so natural, so familiar, startled them both and his thumb traced the line of her collarbone without him even realizing it. What was it they said about old habits? A flash of heat shot through his hand, setting his body on edge. “Felicity,” he pleaded in that tone he reserved for her and only her.

She licked her lips. “What do you want to say, Oliver?”

He shook his head, exhaling sharply. “Can we, I don’t know, have a coffee…just to – to talk?”

The offer ruminated in her eyes, obvious deliberation going on. Eventually she twisted her head to look at his hand resting on her shoulder and nodded a few times as if the action alone would convince her that she was doing the right thing. “Okay,” she let out, the word a mere wisp into the dull drone of the everyday and he felt his heart pound stronger in triumph.

“Okay.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, she smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes and it didn’t light up her whole face like he remembered but it still made him pause, his breath hitching in a way it hadn’t in 7 years.

“Tomorrow? Here, at noon?”

The muscles in his face relaxed, the tiniest of grins forming when he replied, “I’ll be here. I promise.”

Felicity pulled away from his hold and with her head down, she moved past him. “Oliver,” she said suddenly, turning back to face him. “I’m…it’s so good to see you.” And then she headed out of the shop.

Oliver, releasing a long sigh, prayed that maybe, just maybe, the powers that be were on his side in this twist of fate.

Fate seemingly had handed him a miracle – but what he planned to do with it, he wasn’t exactly sure yet.

---

“You gonna tell me why you’ve been acting weird all day?”

Oliver rested both his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands, drained from the endless board meetings he’d been subjected to. Board meetings sucked the life out of him as it was, but since his mind was in a totally different place it was like they were trying to kill him with frustration. Not to mention Isabel was so irritating at times.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said into his hands, enjoying the blotchy darkness.

“Come on, Oliver,” Digg scorned with a sigh. “You’ve been distant since this morning and you looked like you were going to lose your head over Isabel earlier, so what gives?”

He dropped his hands and looked up at his partner. “Sometimes her sunny disposition grates on my nerves,” he answered sardonically.

Diggle chuckled humourlessly, crossing his arms across his chest. He obviously wasn’t going to let it go until he got something out of him. If Digg proved anything over the two years he and Oliver had been working together, it was that he was persistent. “I understand telling the truth is a luxury you don’t indulge in often but how about you try it right now. Can’t hurt, right?”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too bad,” he retorted quickly. “Because we aren’t going anywhere until you spill whatever’s got you looking so spooked.”

“Digg, I really-”

A swift hand came up to stop his excuse. “Seriously, man; now’s not the time to close yourself off. I get that you have secrets – I mean, we all have things we keep to ourselves, right? But sometimes they’re the things that rip us apart.” He perched himself on the edge of the desk. “Usually you’re much better at hiding whatever’s going on in that head of yours but if whatever it is affects what we do for this city every night, then I think you owe it to me to explain.”

Oliver, knowing that Diggle was right, let out an irritated grunt and ran a hand through his cropped hair. Felicity wasn’t a subject he was comfortable talking about. Even after they were over he refused to mention her - even to Tommy or Thea. He just couldn’t expose his pain. “I just…” he exhaled slowly, his jaw ticking. “I ran into someone from my past and it’s thrown me…a little.”

“A little?” The man scoffed incredulously. “So who is it?”

His thoughts drifted the sight of her in the coffee shop, and the way his whole body seemed to come alive as soon as he laid eyes on her. Truth be told, his thoughts had never been too far away from her, but he decided a long time ago to keep her in a completely separate part of mind; a place untouched by the darkness and shame that haunted him. Felicity was his beacon of light – always had been, even before the island – and she deserved to occupy an untainted place in his heart. But she was rarely off his mind.

Even now as he looked out at the sun hovering tauntingly over the horizon, waiting to slip away in a splash of colour, he couldn’t help but wonder at what she was doing; what she was thinking; how her interview went. He ignored the shiver than crept through him at the mere idea of her working in the same building as him day in, day out.

“Felicity Smoak,” he finally said, her name tripping off his tongue with such reverence. “We were together…before the island.”

His friend narrowed his eyes accusingly. “But you took Sara Lance on the Gambit with you? And you were linked with Laurel at the time?” The judgement tone he adopted was pretty difficult to shrug off. It was no secret that Oliver went out of his way to build up a playboy image in the wake of their break-up and those last few months before the accident were like black spots in his past, spreading and staining everything good he had.

“It’s…” What was it? “It’s complicated.” The heel of his hand worked into his forehead. “We broke up four months before I went on the Gambit. Felicity got a special scholarship that enabled her to attend any university of her choice in Europe.” He sighed, pushing his chair back and making it screech against the floor. “And so she went to study abroad and our relationship just…ended.” He swallowed hard, the threat of tears so very real. He wasn’t a crier by any stretch of the imagination but even just thinking about the day they split made his throat ache. He’d never forget her face. Or her voice. Or her tears.

Or his.

Oliver stood and Diggle mirrored him, the curiosity practically radiating off him.

“She’s the only girl I’ve ever loved. Really loved. I thought…” he trailed off, coughing a laugh, “I thought we’d get married. You know, live happily ever after in some mansion somewhere. I guess I was pretty idealistic back then.” A melancholy smile swept over his face. “But Felicity…she was it for me. I never wanted anyone else.”

“So why didn’t you look for her when you returned?”

“Apart from the fact that I was a complete jerk to her the last time I saw her and the infamous reputation I racked up after she’d left, the Oliver she knew died on that island, Digg. The kid that got on that boat never came back. I’m not…I’m not the guy she was in love with. Not anymore. My life is…it’s filled with darkness. Not to mention the fact that I’m the Hood; I’m the one going around shooting arrows at people and putting myself in danger every chance I get. She doesn’t deserve to be around that. She deserves so much more.”

The older man took a few steps toward him, his gaze unswerving. “Oliver I know you don’t think you’re worthy of being happy, that you’ve seen and done things that are unforgivable, but you’re wrong. What you do for this city as the Hood is good, man. The sooner you start believing that, the better. And maybe right now you’re not the guy for this Felicity girl, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be the guy for her someday.”

He ducked his head, his lips clamped together. He wanted nothing more than to believe that, he really did, but was there enough redemption in this world for him? Broken didn’t even begin to describe him; he was barely even alive. Sure, being the Hood gave him a goal, gave him a purpose. And his mother and Thea offered occasional moments of reprieve. And Diggle was a true friend. But Tommy was dead, and Laurel hated him, and Sara was gone.

Frequently, Oliver floundered for meaning in his life, wondering what it was all about, wondering why he lived when others had to die, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. Some days he was doing well and he felt as though maybe, just maybe, everything was looking up; other days he was slipping into an abyss of gloom. Was he supposed to feel pure happiness again? Was he allowed to get a second chance at life?

He wasn’t sure.

“I’m meeting her for coffee tomorrow,” he confessed quietly. “You know, to catch-up, talk things through.”

Much to his dismay, Digg chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well I’d call that the first step, wouldn’t you?”

Oliver rolled his eyes, clearing his throat. “We should head down to the foundry; we’ve got work to do.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

He shot him a wry smile before they left the office, both of them ready to plunge into their other lives.

But maybe John was right.

Maybe he was doing the right thing.

If nothing else, meeting Felicity would at least offer him some kind of closure on that part of his life. Once he knew she was happy, that things worked out for her, that her life was good, then he could close that chapter and move on. 

The only problem was that he knew he’d never move on from Felicity Smoak.

Chapter Text

It took him three months to gather the nerve to ask her out.

Three, long months where he admired her from afar, enchanted by her whole sense of being. To pinpoint what exactly pulled him under her trance would be an impossible feat; the simplest of actions – whether it be the little shove she gave her glasses when they slipped too far down her nose or the way she chewed her bottom lip when she tried to work out a problem – enthralled him. She was just so…different and unexpected and surprising, but in the tiniest of ways. Oliver believed that he could stare at her for hours and never get bored. He often wondered what it’d be like to lose himself in her blue depths, discovering and exploring and learning everything he could about her. They did say the eyes were the windows to the soul, right? He wanted to see if there was any truth in that.

Being so out of touch with himself unnerved him though. Girls, and the object of getting girls, came almost naturally to him. Oliver could charm a wall if he tried hard enough; it practically oozed out of his pores. Somehow he just knew the right thing to say when the right time called for it – and he put it to good use in all his sixteen years of life. Of course, being the son of a billionaire helped too; once girls heard that nugget of information, they went out of their way to throw themselves at him, catching his attention in the most outlandish ways.

Not that he was complaining or anything. The majority of the time he happily obliged them. If making out was a subject, he was definitely sporting an A.

But Felicity? He could barely manage a sentence with her before he felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

It was just so…weird. But great, too. Weird and great all at the same time.

It turned out that Felicity was super smart and took a lot of AP classes, so the only class they shared with one another was English, which coincidentally was Oliver’s best subject. He might not have been the brightest at math or science, but ask him to string a few sentences together and he wasn’t half bad.

Yet the peril of only having one period together was that he rarely got to see her. Sure they acknowledged each other in the hallways and sometimes they’d talked briefly before class started, but because Felicity Smoak was extremely likable, it took her little to no time to make a band of friends and she always sat with them at lunch, leaving Oliver with very slight opportunity to work his magic on her.

Or lack thereof when it came to her.

But what really made his heart stutter to the point of lunacy was that every Wednesday and Friday, without fail, Felicity sat opposite him the library.

Opposite him.

She could have sat anywhere she wanted; the library was the biggest section of the academy with seemingly endless seats so it’s not like there was nowhere else to go.

No, she chose to sit facing him.

Such a trivial fact shouldn’t have made him so happy.

So it was three, long months of her sitting in front of him, distracting him through the simplest of means, all the while unknowingly making him pine for her more.

All it took was for her to smile quickly one day when she caught him looking her way – again – for him to take the plunge. He was tackling math – yet again – and was getting pretty sick of how it kept beating him when, out of seemingly nowhere, his mouth in a complete disconnect with his brain, he blurted quietly, “Hey Felicity, can I ask you something?”

Her head shot up immediately, her eyes warm. “Sure. What’s up?”

A list of possibilities rushed through his mind all along the same vein of, ‘Will you go out with me?’, but the words froze in his mouth as though they themselves had forgotten how they sounded, and instead something else entirely came out. “Why do you always sit here?”

Nothing would have made him happier than if a giant hole appeared in the ground and swallowed him up, sending him spiralling into some kind of dense oblivion where every embarrassing moment in his life would dissipate into a nothingness. What was he thinking?! He wanted to ask the girl out, not give her a reason to run away.

He closed his eyes at his own stupidity and waited for the shuffling that would tell him that she was packing up her stuff and leaving him to drown in his own foolishness. “Felicity, I didn’t mean –”

“Someone told me this was the best seat in the house,” she quipped back, her tone coloured in amusement. Oliver opened his eyes warily to meet the shy gaze of the blonde. Though her voice sounded confident, she looked just as unsure as he felt and that, somehow, made him like her even more. God, he was pathetic. “Why would I move?” She shrugged, a cute whole body movement. “Besides, you’re a pretty good study partner – not that I thought you’d be a bad one, just that usually I like to work in the quiet, hence why I’m always in the library, and that usually means not sharing a table with someone or sitting right at the end of one in my own little world, but you’ve been surprisingly silent and you don’t crumple papers or grind your teeth…oh God not that I thought you would it’s just…3…2…1…”

Her rambles were adorable – and he loved them. “I’ll make sure to put ‘Doesn’t crumple papers or grind teeth’ on my resume. I think it’ll really make me stand out.”

A breathy laugh left her lips. Her very vibrant, full, kissable lips. “I’ll be your reference.”

He leaned forward on the desk as if ready to conspire. “I’ll hold you to that.”

They both fell silent for a few seconds; the sound of pages turning and the odd cough of a student were the only things to be heard. And maybe his heart pounding. Finally, she tilted her head to the side as if trying to figure him out. He adjusted his t-shirt self-consciously. “Are you okay?”

His brow furrowed. “Yeah, why?”

She spun her pen between her fingers. “You just look…I don’t know, I thought you…you just a little distracted.”

“Oh, yeah, uh it’s just…this math homework. I can’t seem to figure it out, that’s all.”

Felicity kept her eyes on him a little longer than usual, her mouth quirked ever so slightly. “Okay, well if you ever need help with it, you can ask me you know. I’m pretty good at math.”

He beamed. “Thanks, Felicity.” She turned her attention back to her own study, seeming satisfied, but the swooping in his stomach was relentless, driving him crazy. It was like it was doing it on purpose, compelling him to say something, anything. “Actually,” he started, his throat dry, “there was something else I wanted to ask you.”

Whether she was aware of it or not, her body mirrored his own, her arms sliding closer to his on the table. “I thought so,” she said, visibly proud of herself. “What’s on your mind?”

Now or never.

He took a deep breath, letting the air purify his lungs. “I was wondering, I don’t know, if maybe…you would or you’d like to…wow, this is so much harder than I thought.”

“Oliver…what’s wrong?”

“Do you…do you wanna hang out sometime? Like, after school someday? Or even on the weekend?” Great. Now he was the one rambling.

“Hang out?” she asked, perplexed.

In an attempt to calm his nerves, he tapped his fingers on his book, the action itself less subtle than he had hoped. “Yeah…like a…sort of like a date?”

Her eyes widened. “A date? You’re asking me out?”

“Yeah?” he affirmed, slouching back into his chair, nervous. In all his preoccupation with actually asking her out, he hadn’t programmed in the thought that she might reject him. Now he was sweating for a whole other reason. Heartbreak was something he’d skirted around a few times in his short romantic history but he was certain that if Felicity Smoak turned him down, he’d experience it on a whole new level. Even the idea of her saying no made his heart twist in all sorts of unnatural ways.

Her reply was no more than the gentlest of whispers, “But you hardly know me?”

“Isn’t that the point of a date - to get to know someone better?” he posed lightly, keeping a tight smile in check.

“But I could be anybody,” she proclaimed a little too loudly, causing a number of heads to turn. Scrunching her shoulders, she whispered again, “I could be a serial killer or a jewel thief…or a really horrible person.”

Even her rationalizing was charming.

“Are you a serial killer or a jewel thief?”

“Well, no but-”

“Or a really horrible person? Because from what I’ve seen, you’re the opposite.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Too nice for my own good?”

His attempts at supressing a chuckle failed miserably but he didn’t care if he disrupted the whole library – not when he was gazing at her. “I think you’re someone I really want to spend time with outside of this library.”

Her eyebrows hiked, clearly taken aback. “Really? I mean…are you sure?”

“Felicity, I am more than sure.”

Waiting for her answer felt like an eternity; every so often her mouth would open but then she’d close it just as quickly, her hands wringing her pen dramatically as though she was pondering a serious life choice. Yet he was patient, ducking his head so that she’d meet his eyes and offering her a grin when she looked his way. He prayed she thought he was being adorable and not pushy. “Okay,” she declared suddenly, her lips curling up and eyes brightening so much they appeared to be sparkling under the light. “I’d like that.”

The excited spurt of breath that exploded from him wasn’t planned, nor was it his finest moment, since he was about a second away from hopping out of his seat, but it was exceedingly difficult to contain his elation at a single world – four letters that were usually so bland but now held such promise.

He swore he could feel the shift in the atmosphere, a change that had welcomed itself into his world, settling around them like a comforting blanket.

“Great. Uh, how about Saturday?”

“Yeah, Saturday works for me.”

Their eyes met again and Oliver winked, feeling more like himself now that he was sure she sort of, kinda liked him too. Her giggle was soft and musical and so damn cute; if he didn’t comprehend just how much trouble he was in beforehand, he definitely did now. 

---

“You finally asked her out?!” Tommy exclaimed in the car on the way home, his outburst so abrupt that the vehicle swerved into the other lane for a second longer than what was deemed safe.

“Yes, but if you keep driving like this I won’t live to see it happen.” Oliver reached over and straightened the steering wheel.

For Tommy’s sixteenth birthday his dad bought him his first car – a slick Lamborghini to be exact. It was the dream car; Oliver distinctly remembered drooling over the bodywork when he clapped eyes on it for the first time. Living a privileged life meant that wanting for something wasn’t something he was used to, but when he heard that sweet engine rev for the first time, Oliver wanted that car so bad. So when he turned sixteen, his parents threw him the keys to a brand new Porsche. How could he complain about that?

The only problem was that Tommy wasn’t exactly the best driver. He passed his test, sure, but to what extent the instructor let the test slide because of the Merlyn connection he wasn’t sure. There was no way Oliver would have passed him anyway.

At least he was finally getting better.

Kind of.

“I got it, I got it,” he assured, placing both hands back on the wheel and studying the road with great intent. “It’s about time, man. For a second there I thought you were losing your touch.”

“So did I,” he agreed, resting his elbow on the door so that his head could fall into his hand. “I’ve never been so nervous around a girl before.”

Tommy pressed a little too hard on the accelerator and the car jolted forward, making all sorts of horrible sounds that no engine should make. His hand grappled with the stick shift until the ride smoothed out and Oliver couldn’t help but snicker at the pinched expression plastered on his best friend’s face. “Stop laughing,” he said petulantly, “I’m still getting the hang of this.” He remained in deep concentration as he attempted to merge. “So what exactly is it about this girl that has you so…off your game?”

“I’m not off my game; I was just…not myself.”

Tommy shot him a dubious look.

Oliver pointed out the windscreen. “Eyes on the road, Merlyn.”

“Come on, Ollie, spill. You weren’t even nervous when you asked Laurel to that stupid dance. Remember Laurel Lance? The girl you’ve been practically crushing on since first grade? Brunette with a piercing glare? What makes this girl so different?”

He shrugged. “I knew Laurel liked me; she made that pretty obvious. So it wasn’t hard to ask her. But going to the dance with her wasn’t such a good idea. Making out with her on the other hand was.” Tommy chortled, pounding knuckles with his. “But Felicity…she’s not just some girl, you know? I don’t know what it is but she’s just so interesting - she makes me want to know everything about her. And she babbles, like, a lot and it’s the just the cutest thing. And then there’s the fact that she’s super smart; I mean, she takes like four AP classes.”

His best friend whistled, his head shaking as he drove. “Dude you have it so bad. If I didn’t know better I think you’d be turning into a one-woman-kind-of-guy.” Oliver rolled his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. That was Tommy for you. “Now personally I don’t see the appeal – why settle down when there’s still so much out there to see…and do…” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “but if this is the path you want to go down then I, as your loyal and ultimately cooler best friend, will respect and support you because that is the kind of guy I am.”

“Gee, thanks buddy,” he laughed, smacking his shoulder playfully.

“Hey no hitting while I’m driving. You wanna stay alive for your date with the girl of your dreams, right? One word of advice though?”

Oliver rested his head against the window, peering back at his friend who had turned deathly serious all of a sudden.

“You might wanna think about doing something with that hair of yours. I mean, it’s doing that rogue surfer thing that just does nothing for you.”

Shaking his head, Oliver vibrated with laughter, thankful that he had someone like Tommy in his life.

 

---

Oliver had endured a lot of injury over the years but the one day he wanted to be of full of energy, his whole body ached from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. The slightest of movements made ligaments cry, tendons wail, muscles tighten, and bones scrape – even frowning caused him discomfort.

Just great.

Since the Undertaking there’d been an influx of criminal activity around the city with citizens going around and taking the law into their own hands, acting out purely because they could; reckless individuals who cared little for the repercussions of their actions, their purpose lost amongst the chaos and threatening the safety of others. The city needed the Hood now more than ever - and Oliver was, evidently, paying the price.

The missions seemed to get more and more dangerous; the stakes higher than ever before. Sometimes when he got back to the foundry, he just stood there in the dark, letting his breath move in and out of his lungs easily as he waited for the adrenaline to subside. The quiet stilled his raucous energy, but it was the aftermath, when everything had settled down, that really packed a punch. The ‘what if?’ game was a staple of his life at this point: what if he didn’t move quick enough? What if his bow didn’t meet its target? What if he lost concentration for just a breath of a second?

But the question always remained: did he really care?

Sometimes he did.

Sometimes he didn’t.

He often wondered when thoughts like that crept into his psyche, when it became so normal for him to have this debate with himself, when the thought of life or death was so casually resting in his mind.  

 “Heading out?” Thea’s voice asked from behind him, its sound diffusing the darkness for now.

Oliver turned from the mirror, appraising her affectionately. “Nothing gets past you, Speedy.”

She stepped into his room, arms swinging so freely that her bracelets cracked off one another roughly, making her entrance far louder than necessary. Thea was constantly going through fads and trends, though in fairness what fifteen-year-old girl wasn’t, and apparently loading your arm with as many bracelets as physically possible was all the rage.

“So who is she?” she drawled, platooning herself onto his bed.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh come on, Ollie. You’re wearing the expensive cologne that you only wear to fancy dinners that makes you smell all important and successful and you’ve spent the past fifteen minutes fixing your hair even though there’s not much you can do with hair like that.” She pointed idly at his head with a grin. “Remember when you hair was longer and it used to get in your eyes?”

“How could I forget? Tommy made fun of it all the time.” A sharp pang at the mention of his friend’s name rocketed through his chest and he struggled to hide the wince. If his little sister noticed, she didn’t show it.

Thea pushed herself into a seating position, one of her legs tucked under her. “So tell me, who’s the girl? Don’t act all dumb, I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Oliver sighed and crossed over to the bed to collect his jacket that sat next to her. “No you’re not,” he agreed sadly.

“And don’t get all pouty on me either,” she warned good-naturedly, leaning over to slap his arm.

It was hard to see Thea so much older, so much more independent, so much more unpredictable. She was this ball of energy, a pumped up life force akin to a hurricane; she’d whirl in, make her mark and spin out in leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. He might have been home two years but it struck him daily how different she was and how he had missed crucial years of her life that he’d never get back. When he left, she was a kid who dreamed of owning a pony and living in a candy store; when he returned, she was more occupied with boys and clothes and her phone. The transition from treating her as a kid to treating her as a teenager was not a smooth one to say the least.

A deep breath calmed his already erratic nerves and he slinked into the jacket. “Do you remember Felicity Smoak?” he asked offhandedly.

Oh, that piqued her interest. The girl straightened immediately, eyes incredulous. “Are you kidding? Of course I do! She was like a big sister to me! That’s who you’re going to see? She’s back in Staring?”

He nodded self-consciously, pursing his lips. “Yeah, she is.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “You know, I always thought you two would be together forever, but then she moved to Europe and you became a jerk so that put an end to that plan.” Well he could hardly argue with that assessment. Her eyes turned up toward the ceiling in contemplation, her bottom lip jutting out. “Gosh I haven’t seen her since…well, since your funeral. I can’t believe she’s back.”

He stilled, the words pressing pause on his life.  “What…what did you say?”

“I just meant I thought she’d left Starling for good.”

“No, before that,” he emphasised as he failed miserably to feign nonchalance. Always one to fidget, Oliver shuffled from one foot to the other, never finding a comfortable place to rest. It was such a tell for him – and definitely something he needed to work on considering the line of business he was in.

Suddenly his sister’s eyes softened in understanding. “Oh, sorry Ollie, I – I guess I just forgot.” In a move that made her look older and wiser than her mere fifteen years, she caught his hand with her own. “Did you really think she’d miss your funeral? Look, you guys might have broken up and even though I don’t really know what happened between the two of you, I know that you loved her and that she felt the same. There was no way she’d miss something like that.”

“But she was in London…she had left…?”

“She came back for the weekend,” Thea filled in the blanks, pulsing his hand once for good measure. “Just showed up at our door the day before the ceremony.”

It shouldn’t have surprised him really – Felicity had always been remarkable in more ways than he count, so maybe it shouldn’t have caught him off-guard to discover that she had made it her business to drop everything and come home for him, and yet he felt something he couldn’t fully comprehend wash over him. It was like knowing what something meant without being able to describe it.

“Ollie,” her voice sliced through his daze, “I think it’s great you get to see her again. Who knows, maybe you two were supposed to end up together. I, for one, think it’s romantic; two lost souls finding their way back to one another.” She was also been going through a watch-as-many-rom-coms-as-humanly-possible phase. “Just don’t blow again this time, hey?”

An easy chuckle rumbled from him. “I promise I’ll try.”

“Good. Now hurry up or else you’re gonna be late.” She shooed him away, wafting her arms dramatically in his direction. With a smirk, Oliver dropped down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Tell her I said hi.”

“You got it, Speedy.”

“To be fair, I think she always liked me better anyways.”

Oliver couldn’t hide his amusement - she was just what he needed at that moment.

---

For possibly the first time in his life, Oliver was early to the café. How exactly he managed that, he didn’t know but there was no way he was going to question it, so instead of pondering over the symbolism and reading too much into pointless signs, he just accepted it. Life was easier that way. In a weird way he felt exposed; almost as if every person he encountered looked at him a second longer than they usually would. Paranoia had been a close friend of his for a long time now, but this was more of a self-conscious nervous concoction that he wasn’t used to.

Taking the initiative, he ordered two coffees and prayed that Felicity took hers the same way she used to all those years ago. It was long-shot, but you couldn’t blame a guy for trying. Back in high school, she had an obsession with coffee; at one point, she enjoyed going to different coffee houses just so she could try whatever they had on sale. Oliver must have seen the inside of every establishment that served the beverage in Starling – not that he ever complained though. She was always so impassioned about it that he didn’t have the heart to tell her that he hated the taste of it.

Since returning from the island he had changed his outlook though; it turned out that it was the only thing that kept him alert through the toughest of days.

He found an empty table facing the window and waited, doing his best to keep himself occupied. The rustling of the sugar packet proved rather soothing. Soon enough, her frame passed by the window, her high ponytail bobbing as she walked. She was on time of course. That simple fact alone was comforting; it was nice to know that some things never changed.

Oliver waved to grab her attention, basking in the knowledge that no matter what happened after this, at least he got to see her again. Seeing her in the flesh – the striking blue of her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, the warmth in her smile – was so much better than pathetically staring at the picture he used to carry of her in his wallet. It wasn’t an image of anything special really, it was more a spur of the moment quick snap of them when they were in the car one day, but it kept permanent residence behind his credit card in his leather wallet until the island swallowed up every last bit of his life. When he couldn’t sleep at night, and the cold, dense air would wrap around him, he’d sit up and think about his family, especially Thea, Tommy, and Felicity. A trifecta of pain one might say.

“Hey,” she greeted, standing away from him. Her face conveyed the same sense of disbelief it had the previous day, her mind still trying to piece it all together.   

“Hi.”

He sat and she stood, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

Oliver cracked first. “Sit, please, you’re making me nervous,” he joked, pulling out the stool next to him. Felicity, biting her lip in deliberation, eyed the seat warily as though it was it some kind of dangerous animal. He gestured to it again, entertained by her dilemma. He’d wait all day if he had to. Eventually she gave in and hopped onto it, disposing of her scarf and coat and draping them over the table. “I got you a coffee,” he said after a beat. “It’s still pretty hot.”

“You remember how I take it?” she asked curiously, bringing the mug close so close to her nose that her glasses steamed up.

“I remember a lot of things.”

She took a sip. “Always full of surprises, aren’t you?” she mused, sighing contently at the taste. Her head nodded to his drink. “Since when do you drink coffee anyway?”

“What do you mean?” He spun his cup absentmindedly, letting its warmth mollify him.

“Come on, Oliver; you used to hate coffee.”

A warbled chortle burst out of him. “Wait, you knew?”

“I think the pained expressions and lack of enthusiasm pretty much gave you away right from the start,” she explained, taking another sip.

Oliver grinned. “And you still dragged me around the city despite all that?”

“First of all, dragging implies that you didn’t want to go – and from what I can remember, you never once complained so don’t try pulling that card now, and secondly, you still made me go to all those Queen family functions even though you knew how much I hated having to dress up and talk to all those spoiled brats so really you have no reason to argue.” Felicity cringed once she had finished, fixing her gaze onto the wood patterns on the table, the façade now back in place.

It struck him how easy it was to be around her even now. A quick ramble from her and a joke and it was as if no time had passed at all.

Unfortunately, too much time had passed.

“I missed hearing you babble,” he admitted softly, spinning his cup again. “I – I missed yo-”

“Oliver, don’t,” she interjected, her voice so small, nearly lost in the swell of background noise. All around them people were meeting up and chatting and exchanging happy stories and here they were, two disconnected people searching for…something. A missing link, perhaps. “Please don’t do this.”

Scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “You’re right; I’m sorry. Uh, how…how did your interview go?” As far as subject changes went, he assumed that was pretty safe. It was better than him finishing off his thoughts. I missed you. Did you miss me? Do you still hate me?

“Really? You want to know?”

Oliver nodded.

“Well it went pretty good. More than good, actually; I got the job. I start Monday.”

“That’s great, Felicity. I knew you would. Someone with your credentials can’t be passed up.”

She snapped her head to the side, regarding him seriously. “You didn’t have anything to do with me getting the job, did you? Because if you did, Oliver, that’s so not cool. I mean, I know you only mean well but it doesn’t really stand to me if the CEO puts in a good word for me and it could get people talking and I am perfectly capable of getting jobs on my own so you don’t have to-” She moved her hands around as she spoke, the light illuminating her sky blue nail polish as she made weird patterns in the sky.

“Felicity,” he cut in, leaning closer to her, “I didn’t say a word.”

Her hands fell down onto her lap. “You didn’t?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Well…why not?” She spied him suspiciously.

“What?”

“I don’t mean why didn’t you say anything, I mean what made you not say anything – ugh, even when I’m trying to make sense, I’m not.”

He mulled it over for a minute and then shrugged. “I knew you wouldn’t want me to,” he answered simply.

“Simple as that, huh?”

“Simple as that.”

It was only then when she let out a long breath that he realized how close they were sitting to one another. Her breath tickled his face, his chest tightening at the feathery touch. Felicity, too, at the same time, noticed and began to move away but something caught her eye, and her gaze melted, her whole demeanour changing rapidly.

Oliver stiffened as her hand came up to cradle the side of his face. It was like she was transfixed, not even aware of what she was doing. It was only when her thumb brushed across the area under his eye that he realized what had her so rapt. His scar. One of the tiniest ones he had, actually. He had so many that they generally all meshed into one, with only a handful distinguishable.

Her touch ignited his skin, his eyes falling shut for the shortest of instances.

“They said your body was 20% scar tissue but I never…” she mumbled, her voice low like a hum, “I never…let myself think of it.” Her thumb padded across the imperfection again.

“I’m sorry.”

It was a prayer; a promise breathed into the void, pouring out of his entire self.

The silence that followed was so long Oliver thought she didn’t hear him. An eternity could have passed for all he knew; he was too focused on her touch and the charge between them.

Yet her hand slipped away too soon, her frame backing away from him. “I don’t want you to be sorry.”

“But I am,” he offered, arms open. Underneath it all, he knew the real reason he wanted to meet Felicity: he wanted the chance to apologize. Was it selfish of him? He wasn’t sure. All he knew is that he had to say it, had to let her know that he regretted the way it all ended, had to just be honest with her.

“For what Oliver?” she asked, exasperated. “Because if you’re apologizing for everything that you went through, then don’t. None of that was your fault. I can’t even imagine what you went through, and I’m not going to ask you about it because I know you and I know you don’t want to talk about it. And that’s okay. You don’t have to.” He moved to speak but she raised both of her hands defiantly, silencing him for now. “And if you’re apologizing for…us, I don’t want to hear it either. We were just kids then. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and to be honest, I’m sick of thinking about it. It feels like it was a whole other life ago and I guess in your case it was. So just…just don’t okay?”

“Felicity…” If he couldn’t apologize, what could he do? How could it make it better? After all, that had been his mantra since he’d come back – to right wrongs and fight injustice and hopefully better himself in the process. He just wanted to make everything better again.

The curl of her lips into a pained smile only served to perturb him more. “Why did you want to meet me, Oliver?” she questioned, gesturing around them to the dizzying activity of the everyday. Suddenly, it felt as though they were outsiders; observers instead of participants.

“Why did you come?” he countered.

Her chin dipped, a sigh tripping from her. “I should have known you’d answer a question with a question. You always did like to do that.” Slowly, she inched over to him again, gripping his hands in hers. “I came because I…seeing you yesterday, brought back a lot of memories and feelings that I had put away a long time ago; I never really knew how I would react if I saw you again and it sort of frightened me as soon as I did. I know that you’re not okay, and I wouldn’t expect you to be, but I just needed to see it for myself. Part of me wants to know everything that happened to you because I’ve lived with these questions for so long, but another part of me doesn’t, and it’s selfish of me to admit, because I know that it’ll hurt. And just the thought of something so terrible happening to you…” she trailed off shaking her head. “The fact is I still care about you – even when you’re not popping back up in my life randomly, and I probably always will. And to be honest, maybe subconsciously I chose to come back to Starling City because of you; once I saw the job opening at QC, I had to at least apply. Even just being back in this city felt like coming home. I just…I don’t know.” She shrugged, settling her stare onto their hands. Oliver held his breath, noting the tears that had begun forming in her eyes. “And that’s the thing about me - I hate not knowing things. I hate mysteries. I hate questions that seemingly have no answers and you, Oliver, left so many questions unanswered in my life. Why did you break my heart? Why did you have to get on that stupid boat? How could you do something so jerky as bringing Laurel’s sister with you? Did you even care about me? About Laurel? Did you die? How did you die? Did you feel pain? Did you suffer?”

She was on a roll now, her hands letting go of his to jab the air every time she finished a question. Felicity’s eyes never landed on him; she was lost in a world of her own, spilling everything she had kept bottled up for the past seven years.

“So you came here for answers,” he surmised, the weight of guilt plundering him from the inside out.

Stormy blues searched his, her face drawn with emotion. “I thought you were dead, Oliver. Dead. I thought you weren’t coming back - and I hated you for it. I hated the way we left things, and I hated the way you just moved on without a second thought and I hated the way you used your dad’s boat as a way of running away from responsibility…and I hated the way I cared about what happened to you. I was eighteen – just a kid. We both were. We jumped too quickly and made promises we should have known we couldn’t keep. We were irrational and completely unrealistic, caught up in every moment. And I told myself that every day after we broke up. And then I heard that the Gambit went down.” She swallowed hard, burying her chin into her shoulder. “I cried for days, scrambling for any information I could get, looking up as many conspiracy theories as humanly possible, and just praying that you had been handed a miracle. That you had somehow survived it and were trying to get back home. But I hated caring about you because it hurt so much. I thought my heart would never heal, Oliver.”

The muscle in his jaw flexed, every single emotion flooding through his system. “But you went to my funeral,” he supplied thickly.

Felicity’s depths studied him. “I had to say goodbye,” she said with a sniff.

Though it didn’t seem like the right time to make any kind of move, Oliver swiped away at a loose tear on her face, letting his fingers rest on her cheek for a moment. Rather than pulling away as he’d expected, the blonde leaned into the pressure.

“There wasn’t a day on that island when I didn’t think about you,” he confessed solemnly.

Felicity chuckled humourlessly. “Do you think that somehow makes it better, Oliver? That you can just say that and it somehow fixes us? It doesn’t. You’re the one that broke us. Instead of thinking about me, you should have been thinking about Laurel – or even Sara,” she snapped petulantly, freeing her face from his hold and leaving his hand grasping at air.

“I was an idiot, I know. God, Felicity I know that, trust me. I was young and dumb and I acted out because I was hurting. Does it excuse everything I did? No, but that’s just…” he paused, angered by his inarticulacy, “it didn’t mean anything. Nothing I did after you meant anything.”

“Nothing you did after me meant anything? What about when you were with me, huh?”

Oliver closed his eyes, fighting the dull pound in his head. “It was a mistake.”

“Yeah, a big one.” The woman rose to her feet, collecting her jacket and scarf hastily and throwing them over her arm. “And I’m beginning to think coming here was a mistake, too.”

“Felicity, please.” He stood as well, catching her elbow. “Please don’t leave it like this. Please don’t go.”

Her hand rifled through her ponytail, her body shaking. “Why? We both know you won’t follow me.”

The words hung ominously in the air between them, smothering them with the weight of the past.

Without hesitation, Oliver engulfed her in an all-consuming hug, letting his actions do the talking instead of his words. She fought him, arms pushing and shoving against his chest, tears soaking through his shirt until she finally gave in, falling into him in one final movement. Her ear rested against his heart as if she needed the confirmation that it was still there and beating.

He didn’t care if people were staring, he didn’t care that all of his muscles ached, he didn’t care that there was still so much to say and so much to do; he only cared about the woman in his arms. The woman that held his heart in her hands. The woman that had even through the minutest of things, dappled light into an otherwise darkened soul.

“Let me just say I’m sorry,” he implored with trepidation, “because I am. You can reject it all you want but I am sorry, Felicity.”

“Sometimes it’s just a little too late, Oliver.”

“But not all the time.”

“No,” she whispered into his shirt. “Not all the time.” A few beats passed with them just embracing, the rest of the world passing by as normal, and then, “I still can’t believe you’re alive. I mean, I don’t think I ever really thought you were gone but I never thought I’d see you again.”

“I know. Me neither.”

She parted with him just enough so that she could look him straight in the eye. “Look, I think…I think I should go.”

The words stung a little, but Oliver noted the distinct lack of finality in them. “Where does this leave us?” he asked nervously. “Friends?”

“I don’t know yet. I think I need time to…process everything.”

“How much time?”

“However long it takes.” She fixed her glasses. “You know, you never told me why you wanted to see me.”

 “Is it so wrong to want to see someone who’s important to you?”

A slight nod of understanding made his stomach knot, his arms itching to pull her flush to him again.

Felicity, fully disentangling herself from him, took a step back, regarding him once more. “See you around, Oliver.” And then she backed away puffy-eyed and red-faced and left, with her scarf trailing the ground behind her. Something about that scene invited a small smile from him.   

“Bye, Felicity,” he whispered into the empty space in front of him.

What was ahead for them stayed a mystery, but he revelled in the fact that at least they had a start.

That was better than nothing.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

 

It had been a month since Oliver had seen Felicity at the café.

Thirty days of trying to give her space, of trying to carry on as if everything was normal, of trying not to let his heart run away from him again. It beat with more purpose now than he thought imaginable, every pump a vow that something better was out there for him. If only he let himself believe that.

She said she needed time - and he could do that. He’d give her anything she needed; the promise of something in the end enough to keep him ticking on. The only thing about time was that it was flexible; bending and shaping so that one day it could fly by, scenes and moments speeding by in the blink of an eye, and the next it could drag to the point where it seems as though it stands still.

Oliver’s life was a fine balance of the two. His night activities kept his mind active and off her for a while with fending off hardened criminals pretty much the only thing he could truly focus on, but the days sputtered on in pieces and chunks and endless board meetings that seemed to always hark down to figures and financial plans.

Just another one of those perks of being CEO…

It was during the day when, outside of his own accord, his thoughts drifted to her as if they had separated themselves from every other one crowded in his mind and floated off into a world of their own - their own sliver of peace away from the chaos that defined his life.

It would be so easy to get in the elevator and go down eighteen floors to see her; all it would take was a press of a button and there she’d be probably dressed in something colourful, her hair strung high in a ponytail, glasses teetering on the bridge of her nose and a pen sandwiched between her teeth. Even the image of her tapping furiously on the keys at her computer drew a smile from him. It was those little quirks of hers that enraptured him the very first time he met her and he was glad to learn that those hadn’t faded over time.

Yet he couldn’t do it. The confliction, the sheer confusion of feelings, was too great to bear. He had seen it written all over her face, shimmering in her eyes when she looked back at him, as though years of hardships and anger and hatred burned through every wall he had erected and singed his core – the only part of him left untainted by his ordeal, the part touched solely by his love for her. The betrayal weighed heavily on her to this day like it physically affected her every movement and he sunk himself into a pool of self-frustration knowing that while he was certainly not the only cause of it, he contributed enough to her strain.

But when he held her…everything fell away.

And he felt that relief seep through her too, igniting all of his nerves at once. Feelings like that sparked hope though, and he understood that he couldn’t jump ahead and envision something that possibly could never happen for him - nothing hurt more than the cruel taste of disappointment; that plunging feeling that tinted everything with shades of bleak.

“Still daydreamin’ about Blondie?”

Oliver shook his head, rattling around the musings as he focused back on his friend and partner who was giving him a rather disapproving look. “Sorry, I was…someplace else.”

The foundry was eerily quiet; the whirring from the computer system the only noise to be heard apart from the squeak of the chair against the ground.

Diggle levelled him with one look, his eyebrow quirked. “You know Oliver you’re always someplace else these days. Why don’t you just go and see her? It’d make my job a hell of a lot easier.”

Oh he did not want to talk about this. He appreciated that John was only merely voicing his own questions and yes, maybe his focus could have been a little sharper, but he wasn’t allowing it to mess with his job in the city. That was something he was adamant about the moment he laid eyes on her again; his mission couldn’t afford to be compromised by his feelings – he couldn’t afford to be reckless anymore, not when he had another reason to fight.

“She said she needed space – I can’t just go barging down to the IT department; she’ll never talk to me again.” A long drawn sigh escaped his lips and he leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “And her name’s Felicity,” he added as an afterthought, letting the distaste for the nickname shine through his pinched features.

“I’m not talking about going down there and laying all your feelings on the table because, frankly, that’d only make your situation worse.” Digg chuckled as if picturing the scene. Oliver rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about going down there and asking her for help.”

The man jerked upright, confused. “Help?” he echoed.

“With this…” Digg pointed to bullet-ridden laptop on the desk, “I’m not too bad with computers but man, I’ve been at this for days and I can’t recover anything. And I know you can’t because I saw you almost fling it across the room yesterday so don’t try to spin that crap with me.” He nudged Oliver’s knee, forcing him to look at him. “I’m not saying you should tell her who you really are but if she’s half as good as you’ve made her out to be, then we really need her help. Otherwise we’re screwed. Plus, it’d give you an actual reason to talk to her which can’t hurt.”

As if crime being at an all-time high wasn’t already enough for him to deal with, Hood copycats had begun terrorizing the city on a fairly regular basis. They travelled in a pack, dropping in and out of all kinds of social events, targeting high profile members of Starling and killing innocents in the process. They claimed to be rectifying wrongs, absolving the city of evil, ridding their neighbourhoods of those they deemed ignorant to the growing plight of the people in the wake of the Undertaking, and had decided that action – nonsensically violence and murder to be exact – was the only way to achieve it.  The Hood was hardly a favourite around town and this new band of vigilantes served only to add fuel to the fire.  However, finding them wasn’t proving so easy and neither was figuring who was next on their hit list.

It was a miracle they got the laptop in the first place. On the tail of a police lead, Oliver stumbled across what appeared to be, or well what at least used to be, their base for operation. A shoot-out ensued once they caught wind of his presence which resulted in the majority of them fleeing the scene, leaving a shot-up laptop and several fatalities in their wake. By the time the cops showed up, all evidence of them had long gone aside from the bodies slumped on the ground. They were evidently clever enough to move their headquarters elsewhere following the showdown leaving the SCPD back at square one, but he and Digg had something to work with: one bullet-ridden laptop.

If only they could get it to work.

Oliver rose to his feet, his back to the man as he rolled his shoulders, his jaw ticking in chagrin. “I’m not dragging her into this,” he ground out, the harsh sound of his words reverberating around him. “She can’t be touched by what I do. I’ve already done enough to her.”

“So, what, you’re just gonna leave out this teeny tiny detail of your life if and when you reconnect? Sounds like a solid foundation to build your relationship on,” he scoffed. “If that’s what you want then that’s fine, Oliver; you’re a big boy, you don’t need anyone telling you what you should or shouldn’t do. But look man, this girl has got some hold over you – maybe it’s just guilt, I don’t know – but it’s eating away at you. It won’t disappear until you make some kind of move. And if you don’t know what to do yet, then don’t tell her anything about who you really are; it’s your secret to tell and it has the potential to change everything about the way we operate so I understand your reluctance, I do.” The man circled around Oliver so that he was facing him, his hands raised in the air in surrender. “All I’m saying though is that you have to start thinking like the Hood instead of Oliver Queen, the lovesick boy. What would the Hood do right now?” Oliver dropped his stare. “He’d try damn hard to get answers,” Diggle filled in for him. “If this laptop has clues as who their next target is, then we have to everything we can to get it to work. Think about that.”

Oliver opened his mouth to retort, to argue, but all that came out was a quiet plea, “Digg…”

Moments of silence passed between them until his partner finally sighed, the sound heavy. Yet understanding hung in his eyes. “I’ll keep trying,” he said, clapping his shoulder as he moved past him back to the desk.

Oliver closed his eyes and wished that life was simpler, that there was some kind of manual he could read that would offer him options or answers or directions, that some infinite wisdom would somehow be bestowed on him so that he could make the right choices, the right decisions, know the right paths to take. Sometimes he felt like he was walking around blind; looking but not really seeing.

But this was the life he chose. This was the life he led. And it was filled with a darkness so intense that even he was perturbed by it.

Dragging Felicity into the grim reality of what he did day in, day out, couldn’t work. What he did was dangerous and anyone in his orbit could get hurt. He wouldn’t let that happen – no, he couldn’t let that happen.

From behind him, Diggle spoke up again as if reading his train of thought. “Oliver, it’s okay to be afraid you know. You don’t have to have all the answers and you definitely don’t have to pretend like you have it all together all the time.”

Oliver spun around, arms outstretched. “I can’t just let her into this part of my life! She’ll never…” he trailed off, pursing his lips. “She’ll never look at me the same way again.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to tell her that you go around wearing a green hood and shooting arrows,” he reiterated. “But I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again: what you do, Oliver, is good. I know you don’t believe that and you don’t see it, but it’s the truth. Those copycats? What they do is wrong. You’re not on some crazy vengeance crusade; you’re on a mission to save your city. Some might call that noble; others might even call it heroic.” Resting an arm on the desk, he looked up at him knowingly. “You know, sometimes it’s easy to get carried away with the dark thoughts in your head – trust me, I know them well; but there comes a certain point in life when you can’t let your past define your future. Oliver I don’t know what exactly happened to you during those five years. What I do know is that you’re a warrior and a survivor and you got a good heart to do what’s right – don’t let the island consume who you really are. Don’t let it taint everything good in your life. Don’t let it inside your head.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

Digg took the computer in his hands and offered it to him. “Well maybe it’s time you started trying.”

He scrutinized his friend as he gathered the object in his arms. A sly smile broke through his usual stoic expression. “All that just because you don’t want to spend any more time working on this?”

The man chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Just offering my sage advice, that’s all.”

Oliver nodded, laughing once before turning serious again. “If I do this, if I ask for her help, I do it my way. I decide what she knows, what she doesn’t know. I don’t want to take any chances with her, Digg. I can’t.”

“You got it, boss.”

---

Dates and the whole object of dating usually came easy to Oliver.

Most of the time all he had to do was smile and look mildly interested in what they were saying and the girls were under his spell. And it wasn’t really an ego thing; all his life, he’d been lavished with attention and told he was handsome and that he’d amount to great things so by the time he reached his teens he’d come to expect it really. As Tommy would say, he could have his choice of any girl in school – and he knew that. Not many of them played hard to get and those who did, he wasn’t interested enough to pursue. He preferred it when they kind of just fell into his lap. Sometimes literally.

The only exception to that was Laurel Lance but one date with her was enough to crush the dream of her. Laurel was driven, ambitious, studious and serious – too serious for Oliver. She had a plan, she had goals and she had maps to get there. ‘Pressure’ was the word he associated with her; being around Laurel already made him feel like a lesser person. She had pre-conceived notions of who Oliver could be, of what he was capable of. All he wanted to do was go to the dance and then maybe drive somewhere remote and quiet, just the two of them - a speech about his future and prospects wasn’t part of the plan. She just…wasn’t his right fit.

Besides that, he considered himself quite skilful when it came to taking girls out.

Yet it appeared that on his way to pick up Felicity Smoak for their date, his usual confidence had tossed itself out the car window along with his cool collect. His palms were clammy, his shirt was just that little too tight across his chest, his stomach was doing all sorts of swooping movements; he was a nervous wreck.

And as he stood awkwardly in front of her house, his hand hovering in the air after he knocked on the door, he felt completely out of his depth. Oliver wasn’t one to buckle under anxiety, but even he began to question himself as he waited for her to appear. It was all so new to him, so frightening.

It was also sort of exciting, too. Unexpected and unpredictable. For what almost felt like the first time ever, he had no idea how this date was going to go - and something about that was refreshing.

He could have chalked his nerves down to the fact that he hadn’t been on a date in a couple of months, but deep down he knew it was because he was going out with a girl he could potentially more than like. It was ridiculous to think a girl could have such a hold on him, yet he relished in the thought, loving the light, floaty feel when he thought of her. Though not entirely sure what he was feeling, he knew that he didn’t want it to go away.

Truth be told, the nerves were there to remind him that he had something to lose if he were to screw up. He didn’t want to blow this chance; whatever was between them – and he wasn’t imagining it, there was definitely something there – was something worth exploring. But it was also something that could explode spectacularly in his face. He was a screw-up; that, he knew all too well. But this chance, this opportunity, this girl…he couldn’t mess it up.

Taking his best friend’s advice, he actually did something with his hair so that it stayed out of his eyes, but while he waited for her he couldn’t stop himself from playing with it, tossing errant locks to and fro, never happy with how it sat. Thoughts of self-doubt swirled menacingly through his mind, distracting him from reality. It wasn’t until he heard her voice that he realized she had answered the door.

“Oliver?” She sounded concerned. He wondered how long she had been calling his name.

He snapped his eyes to hers, a deep exhale leaving his body. “What? Oh, uh…sorry, I was lost in my own little world there.” He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she smiled, her eyes brightening.

It was only then that he really looked at her, his gaze soft. Felicity was easily one of the prettiest girls in his class and he was certain that lots of people noticed that, but when she stood there in front of him just in a simple top and jean shorts with her hair flowing over her shoulders, she was beautiful.

And that was the first time Oliver had ever used that word to describe a girl.

The realization made his stomach dip in that good way it did every time he saw her.

“You look…wow.” If only he could express himself eloquently…

Felicity blushed, examining her outfit with a crinkled brow. “No I don’t,” she insisted sheepishly. “I spent forever trying to figure out what to wear because I didn’t know what we’d be doing, and so I didn’t exactly know how to dress. I thought about wearing jeans but then I remembered how hot it’s supposed to get today and then I thought about a dress but then I thought that’d be a bit much for a first date – not that me in a dress implies, well, anything really but in my mind it kind of did…” she trailed off, her bottom lip trapped under her teeth. “You didn’t need to know any of that and I’m talking too much again which I really have to learn to control…”

Oliver grinned. “I like it when you talk too much,” he admitted fondly. “Not many people say what they really think; it’s cool that you do. And, for the record, you do look…wow.”

She ducked her head, abashed. “Oh well…thanks. You look hot,” her orbs widened, “ – nice! I meant nice!”

“I’ll take ‘hot’”, he quipped, garnering a quiet giggle off her that boosted his confidence. Their eyes locked, something unknown yet undeniable charging between them. “I like your house,” he said after a beat, motioning around him. His own eyes narrowed at his choice of topic, feeling the swell of stupidity rising in him again.

“Thanks. I mean, it’s no Queen mansion but it does the job –” her mouth rounded in an ‘o’, “- I didn’t mean to make a crack at how much money your family has, I was just trying to make a comparison and I put my foot in it like always…”

“Felicity,” he cut in, her name smooth on his tongue, “it’s okay.”

She tittered gently in relief, tilting her head to the side, one eyebrow raised.  “Did you do something to your hair?”

Was it bad that he felt all tingly because she noticed something different about him? Yes, yes it was. He ran a hand through his locks self-consciously. “Apparently there’s this thing called a hairbrush,” he joked. “It works wonders.”

“So I’ve heard,” she toyed back, using the door jamb to lean forward and in doing so, causing some of her hair to fall forward over her face. He never realized how long her hair was until then, its bounciness an extension of her personality.

“So…” His arms swung forwards and backwards as he let his focus fixate on her smile, “you ready to go?”

“Oh yeah sure, let me just grab my things.” Before he could say anything she disappeared into her house, a bunch of noises and shuffles the only sounds to be heard while he waited, but just as soon as she was gone, she was back with a bag and a light jacket draped over her arm, her cheeks flushed from the movement.

Once the door was closed behind her, he boldly offered her his hand, praying that he wasn’t being too forward. The want to hold her hand increased with every second they stood on that porch and in his mind, the decision to take the lead was now or never. Though there was a fleeting instance of hesitation on her part, Felicity accepted it, lacing her fingers through his and squeezing once as if she needed to make sure he was really there.

He squeezed back for good measure, trying not to focus on how perfectly her hand fit with his; her soft, delicate skin meshing with his slightly rougher graft creating just the right balance.

The walked hand in hand toward his car, the fresh breeze whipping around and cooling them down. He opened the passenger door for her and watched her smile shyly as she climbed in and when she was safely inside, he closed it and circled around to the driver’s side, sliding in next to her.

He drove the Porsche. Instinct told him to impress her, to utilize his wealth to give him an edge, and if he was being honest, a part of him wanted to show off, to give her the best date possible because he was Oliver Queen and the sky was the limit. But another part of him, a larger part, believed that Felicity deserved to be treated the best. She deserved to be driven around in a Porsche purely because she would never want to be. She wasn’t the type to make a big deal over his money – in fact, it actually made her uncomfortable, and that made him like her more. She didn’t like him for how many zeroes he had in his trust fund, she didn’t like him for his luxurious possessions or his ability to get pretty much anything he wanted without reserve; no, she, somehow, just simply liked him for him. What a fascinatingly thrilling concept.  

“Where are we going?” she inquired curiously, angling her body toward him, a wave of her perfume washing over him. It was sweet but not in the overpowering kind of way. “You were kinda vague on the details.”

He swallowed, flexing his hands on the steering wheel. “I was thinking we’d go for a walk in the park. Maybe get an ice cream.”

An incredulous giggle burst out of her and she quickly slammed her hands over her mouth to stop it progressing further.

His chin dipped, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s nothing…it’s just that, well, you don’t really look like a ‘walk in the park’ kind of guy, that’s all.”

“Well that would be because I’m not really.”

Her stare turned searching. “Then why choose it?”

Oliver had decided on the park after a pretty long debate with himself where we must have weighed up every option available to him. Nothing seemed to work. His ideas were either too crazy for a first date or just not good enough. When he thought about what he thought she’d like to do, a simple date came to mind – something easy and uncomplicated, where they could hang out without the stress of a label. No other option allowed him such freedom to get to know her better; in fact, they’d only inhibit the conversation. Oliver wanted to know as much about Felicity as possible.  “I just felt like it was the perfect place for us to go. I mean, it’s sunny out and we can walk and talk and I know of this ice cream truck that sells the best ice cream in Starling…” he stopped when he caught her expression. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…you’re surprising me that’s all.”

He glanced at her quickly. “Is that a good surprising or a bad surprising?”

“Oh good!” she asserted with her hands reaching out in front of her.” Definitely good.”

“Well that’s good to know.”

A mischievous glint in his eye, and taking stock of Felicity’s watchful gaze, he pressed the button next to his arm, rolling down both his and her windows. The cool breeze roared through the space, pulsing over them as he picked up the speed. Her hair flapping wildly around her and his pulling all kinds of funny shapes, Oliver decided to open the sunroof, letting the rushing air consume them both. Though she was fighting with her unruly locks, Felicity couldn’t contain her laughter – and she really laughed, throwing her head back and her arms in the air. The sound was just as exhilarating as speeding down the highway with the windows down, and soon enough Oliver joined in with her, finding it unbelievably infectious.

“Looks like I messed my hair up!” he yelled over the wind, pointing to his loose cut.

Biting her bottom lip, a small smile peeking though, Felicity reached over and took the hand closest to her, raising it in the air just a few moments.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a chuckle, basking in how alive the burst of wind in his face made him before steadying his hand back on the wheel again. The heat from her touch lingered on his fingertips, distracting him slightly.

“I can’t let you miss out on all the fun!” she explained cheerfully, pushing all the excess blonde off her face and closing her eyes, tilting her head toward the glaring sun.

Oliver’s smile widened as he turned his head to fully look at her.

He couldn’t wait for the rest of the date.

---

The laptop was like a lead weight in his hands. Despite knowing it was just his anxiety messing with his head, Oliver swapped it from one arm to the other and then back again, feeling his muscles tense as he marched to the IT department, feigning an air of authority. One of the perks of being CEO was the lack of interaction he received when he travelled through the building and he, for one, couldn’t have been more grateful for that as he closed the distance. Dealing with anyone at that point would have deterred him from what he had planned to do.

He had resigned himself to the fact that he needed help and though there were people who would have been more than willing to help out Mr Queen, none of them were Felicity. None of them knew computers like Felicity. And none of them kept a lock on his heart.

It was a risk; a gamble. But maybe, like Digg said, it was one worth taking.

She had her own office; the door wide open when he arrived. A puff of breath left his body and he braced himself, cursing that uneasy flopping his stomach was casually doing. Honestly, it was like his body was actively trying to sabotage him.

As he envisioned, Felicity was nose-deep in whatever was on her screen, her glasses dangling dangerous at the end of her nose. She chewed mechanically on the lid of her pen – something she used to do when doing her homework once upon a time, her eyebrows knitted together as she tapped away at her keyboard.

When his entrance didn’t register with her, Oliver cleared his throat. “Hey,” he greeted.

Her head shot up in shock, sending her ponytail flying out in all directions. “Ol…Oliver? Don’t you knock?” she interrogated breathlessly.

“Felicity this is the IT department; it’s not the ladies room.” He really tried not to laugh but he was too late to suppress the smile that broke through.

She shook her head as if to bring her back to earth. “What – what are you doing here? I thought I told you I needed space and you coming down here isn’t exactly –”

“Giving you space,” he finished with a nod. “I know. But I’m not here to talk about…us; I’m here because I need your help. That’s it; no hidden agendas or anything. I just need that crazy smart Smoak brain of yours.”

Her lips rolled in, she squinted, trying to read him. She always did enjoy doing that. “What exactly is it you need my help with?”

A muscle in his neck ticked. “I’m having trouble with my computer and I have it on good authority that you’re the person to come and see. You are the best at this type of stuff, after all.” He pulled the laptop from under his arm and presented to her, leaving it on the desk. Felicity scooted over to it, fixing her glasses in the process. “I was at my coffee shop, surfing the web and I accidentally knocked it off the table.”

“Really?” she posed disbelievingly.

“Yeah.”

“Because these look like bullet holes.”

He really should have worked out his excuse before he came down to the department. “My coffee shop is in a bad neighbourhood.”

So much for being able to think quickly on his feet.

Felicity jerked her head forward, eyes narrowed. “Oliver, come on.”

She was attempting to look menacing but he smiled nonetheless, letting her know that he knew how ridiculous he sounded. “Look, can you please just try to get it to work? I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important and you know that.” He raised his shoulder a little, hoping the gesture would cut him some slack. “I really need your help, Felicity.”

He made a deal with himself earlier: if she turned him away he would just figure something else out, no questions asked, no hard feelings; but the imperceptible change in her depths told him that he may have stood a chance. “Okay,” she finally said after sizing him up, running her fingers over the grooves of the machine. “I’ll see what I can do.”

His shoulders dropped in relief. “Thank you. Um…” he checked his watch, “would it be okay if I came back…say around 5?”

Felicity licked her lips and nodded. “Yeah, that should be fine.”

“Great.” That was his cue to leave he knew, but he paused there a few seconds longer than courtesy demanded just looking at her. With all thought about how he had to give her space and keep her at a distance, he never really allowed himself a lot of time to digest the fact that, through whatever forces that may be, Felicity was back in his life. It stultified him to be perfectly honest. Being able to actually look at her, hear her voice – it proved astounding. On the island he only had his hazy memory and unreliable thoughts to help him construct a picture of her, yet none of that held a torch to the reality. “Well I guess I’ll see you later then.”

“I guess you will,” she said, dragging her focus from him onto the laptop in front of her.

Before he said anything else, Oliver turned on his heel and strode out of the office, feeling her eyes on him as he did.

---

Her fingers danced over the keys swiftly. “It took me longer than I thought which surprised even me because we both know that file restoring is pretty much my thing, except for that one spat during senior year when I was all about coding, but eventually I managed it get in.”

“How many cups of coffee did it take?” That invited a questioning look from her. Oliver shrugged, his business suit feeling large and chunky on him as he sat in the confined space behind her desk. “You always drink coffee when you’re trying to crack something.”

She twisted back to face the screen abruptly. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t do that anymore?” she said a little petulantly.

“Not really.”

Her hands stopped moving for the briefest moment. “Whatever,” she grumbled, but the beginnings of a crooked smirk gave her away. “And I only had 3,” she added when the silence lengthened a little too much.

“Really? Only 3?”

“Okay so maybe it was more like 5…”

“That sounds more like it,” he professed teasingly, leaning forward so that his shoulder brushed hers.

Felicity, not one to overlook anything, spotted their close proximity and promptly, albeit pretty subtly, pushed her chair away from him. “Do you want these files or not?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, his tone too solemn for the atmosphere.

The shift was immediate.

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” she muttered under her breath; he knew he wasn’t supposed to hear it – and that alone elicited a sharp tug in his chest. “Anyway…uh, when I got in, all that I could really find was this,” she pushed a few buttons and a cascade of blueprints appeared in front of him, all of different buildings. “I mean, all that there seems to be, aside from the standard programs, are building plans…which you obviously know because it’s your laptop and I’m just stating the obvious. I seem to have a tendency to do that - why exactly do you have blueprints of prominent buildings in the city? Is QC looking to acquire them?” Her hands darted out in his direction. “Wait, no don’t answer that; that’s absolutely none of my business and I shouldn’t be asking you things that have nothing to do with me - just because we have history doesn’t mean we have to share anything about anything.”

The tug in his heart intensified, practically begging him to say something, to lay a hand on her shoulder, to just act. Make a move.

But he stayed still, keeping fixed on the prints, noting that five of them were of buildings already hit by the vigilantes. “Something like that,” he replied vaguely, not alluding to anything in particular. “Did you happen to come across a list of some sort?”

Felicity eyed him carefully, her suspicion aroused. He could tell by her piqued eyebrows and rolled lips. Always a dead giveaway. “What kind of list, Oliver?”

“Just a list of names; nothing special,” he answered off-hand.

She wasn’t buying it. Turning in her chair to face him fully, she frowned. “Is all of this some kind of really badly put together ploy just to see me?” she charged, upset. “Because if it is, Oliver, I think you should go. I wasn’t lying when I said I needed space and seeing you, especially when I wasn’t prepared, just completely throws everything out of whack. I mean, one look at you and I’m that stupid, naïve girl who was completely in love with you – which I no longer am of course – but you know what I mean; you can’t just do…this.”

He exhaled slowly. “Felicity,” he emphasised her name softly, “I don’t want to overstep boundaries here; I really just needed your help.”

With a curt nod that gave no indication of what was going through her mind, her fingers began to work again and Oliver waited patiently, watching icons and windows bounce around the screen. “I can’t see a list,” she explained, distracted.

“That’s okay; it wasn’t that important.”

Her tongue met the roof of her mouth. “Okay then.” A few clicks later and she unplugged a USB and handed it to him. “Here you go. Everything I could recover is on that.”

Their fingers brushed lightly as he took it from her and ignoring the shock that ran up through his arm was impossible. Coughing to cover up his expression, Oliver stood. “Felicity, you’re remarkable,” he proclaimed, smiling.

Her face brightened. “Thank you for remarking on it.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I know you’re busy and I just…thank you for doing this for me.”

“Don’t mention it,” she waved off bashfully. “That’s what friends are for.”

Friends.

He could work with that.

Felicity reached for her coat on the back of her swivel chair with one arm and used the other to push around a few things on her desk into corners so as to give the impression that it was tidy. She never was the tidiest person; not messy by nature, but just not neat. Her life was a constant hop from one thing to another, flowing and connecting into whatever she liked at the time, never fully remaining steadfast so it made sense that her life, and everything in it, was devoid of a sense of order. Oliver loved that about her.

“Heading home?” he probed innocently, rubbing his fingers against his thumb.

“Well it is home time.”

“Let me walk you to the parking garage. It’s the least I can do.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need an escort, Oliver. I do it all the time.”

“But today you have me and I insist.”

“Well, I insist that you don’t have to.”

A shot of breath left his lungs. “Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are you so persistent?”

“Will you just let me?” he chuckled.

Her face dropped. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, okay?”

“How about just to the elevator?” he offered, scrubbing a hand over his face. He couldn’t just leave it at that.

He just couldn’t.

“Olive-”

“Felicity.”

Whatever was in his expression must have stirred something inside her because she rounded the desk and planted herself in front of him, her face tilted up to meet his perusing gaze. “Fine,” she relented. “Just to the elevator.”

His arm pulled out wide, signalling for her to lead the way. The clacking of her heels somewhat unnerved him but he followed suit, keeping in-step with her the whole way, not once moving too close or too far. To stop himself from doing something rash, he jammed his hands into his pockets.

She was the first to break the unwanted silence. “I saw the news earlier. About your mom.”

Of course she did. Coverage of Moira Queen’s trial was everywhere, shoving itself into Oliver’s face at every chance. Not only did he have to deal with the press loitering outside his home when he left in the morning and when he came home at night, but they had taken to hanging outside QC offices now too, badgering him for a comment, asking him ludicrous questions and generally pissing him off.

The trial was coming up fast and bracing himself for what was to come wasn’t an easy task. He was trying to keep it together for Thea’s sake but with so many things piling on top of him, he found himself on the cusp of crumbling under the pressure.

“Yeah. It’s kind of hard to miss.”

Felicity pushed up her glasses. “How’s Thea doing with it all?”

“Considering the circumstances…better than I thought. She finally went to see my mom and now she’s there any chance she gets. It’s tough on her though; she’s still just a kid. But you know what she’s like – Thea’s strong. Always looking for ways to fight back.” That she asked about his sister at all alleviated the tension nestling inside him. For the past few weeks it was as though there had been a physical manifestation of tension burgeoning in the pit of his stomach, growing and spreading with each passing day, worming its way through his entire body.

“Gosh, she must be, what, fifteen now?” She shook her head. “She’s gone through so much already…how’re you doing with it all?”

“About as well as you could imagine,” he replied honestly, his tone causing her to pause.

Shakily, her hand came up to rest on his arm, her eyes sad.

And then the commotion started.

“Oliver Queen!” the voice boomed from down the hall. “Find me Oliver Queen!”

The sound of gunfire rang out around them, the sound deafening. All that could be seen was spurts of screaming office workers sprinting in all directions in complete panic.

Grabbing hold of Felicity without even thinking about it, he readied himself to do the same when a band of hooded figures swam into view, their guns aimed straight at him.

“Oliver Queen,” the person in the middle thundered, jutting the firearm in his direction again, making him flinch in fear. “You have failed this city!”

Felicity’s panicked breaths pounded against his ear.

He gulped.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Everything happened so quickly.

The hooded figure was joined by three other persons, the barrels of their guns staring sadistically at them, a sentence to death written in their profile.

His nerves on fire, he gripped Felicity tighter and readied himself for action. He’d been in tighter spots before and he sure as hell didn’t beat the island to be thwarted by a few rogue thrill-seekers in Starling City – especially not with Felicity at his side.

He had a second to act.

One second.

Survival instinct coursed through Oliver’s veins, pumping around his body at a rapid pace, igniting every atom in his core.

Instinctively, he dropped them both to the ground as fast as he possibly could, their bodies flush.  Bullets sprayed. Windows smashed. Sparks flew from where they ricocheted off solid matter. Screams amplified. He was acutely aware of her distress pinned under him and, in the hope the gesture would lessen her fear, he allowed himself a brief glance into her depths, his eyes urging her to remain calm, to trust him, to hold tight. She swallowed hard under the gaze, her own eyes answering his.

A cacophony of sound rang through his ears, smacking against his eardrum, dulling the sense and making him disorientated, but while the commotion intensified, Oliver saw his opening and jolted to his feet with Felicity in tow. His arm wrapped around her middle, they rushed to the away from the shooters and around the nearest corner, the wall their shield for the time being.

The gunfire escalated; the danger strikingly real.

Oliver grasped at the space beside him with the need to diminish his worry, his breath coming in fast spurts. Felicity’s absence known immediately, he swiftly turned his attention away from the attackers toward her just in time to see a rogue gunman surging toward them. With almost no time to react, he moved to throw himself in front of the blonde, but Felicity, brimming with adrenaline, was the first to act. She swung her arms wildly, smacking the assailant square in the face with her handbag, knocking them out on impact.

Her head tilted back in realization at what she had done, her hands shaking uncontrollably. “I guess…my tablet…he’s out cold.”

They were closing in on them. “Oliver Queen! Show your face!”

He eyed the wall of glass in front of him, clocking all the risks in his head.

There was only one exit option available.

His hand tightened on her elbow. “Do you trust me?” he yelled over the clamour.

With a lick of the lips, she looked directly into his eyes and nodded.

He didn’t waste any more time. Without a second thought, he pulled her to his side and took off toward the window, the bullets firing in their direction. At the last possible second Oliver snatched at the chain from the curtain rail as they hurtled through the glass, angling Felicity into him as they swung through the air and back through the window two floors below in one fluid movement.

Splinters of glass exploded around their frames in fantastic, deadly display as they each careened over a desk and spattered onto the ground. Shards showered over their still bodies, gusts of wind flapping papers about, the scene eerily calm. The seconds that followed were encased with shell of climax, relief saturating over the destruction they created.

Oliver was the first to pull back to sense, his vision rapidly scanning the area closest to him, but once he saw Felicity stir next to him, he desperately reached out and draped back her messy ponytail, needing to see that she was okay. Apart from a few minor scrapes on her face that he hated himself for, she seemed to be fine and her breathless nod to him confirmed as such, allowing him the chance to release a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding since the moment they charged for the escape.

He didn’t know if it’d work.

He didn’t know if the rail would hold their combined weight.

He didn’t know if he was being reckless or if he was being smart.

He didn’t know if his rash decision would lead to their deaths.

But seeing her alive and in one piece next to him quelled the overwhelming pain shooting through his limbs. He did what he had to do. They were safe.

Clambering to his feet, he dusted off the remnants of the windows and offered her his hand in aid. She took it, her eyes glazed over in shock. “Are you okay?” he asked breathily. Her legs moved robotically, like they were running on sheer habit more so than direction but as soon as she was upright, she fell into him, causing him to step back to support her weight. “Whoa, whoa, okay,” he stammered worriedly, ushering them over to the couch on the other side of the office to sit her down.

Her hands gripped the edge of the furniture as though she feared she’d fall off if she didn’t steady herself and against his better judgement, and also perhaps selfishly, Oliver slipped down next to her and cautiously put an arm around her shoulder, his hands idly rubbing back and forth in an attempt to soothe her.

“Felicity…” he whispered, on edge due to her state. “Please say something. Are you hurt?”

Just then her head lurched to the side so that she could look at him. “How did you…” she paused to fix her askew glasses, “you jumped out the window! You just threw us out a wall of glass – and I let you do it! I mean, I realize we were in a pretty tight spot with frighteningly low escape options but we’re twenty floors above ground level and you just hopped out there without a care in the world and I just rolled along with it because, let’s face it, I really had no other choice and then we were flying through the air and somehow coming back in through another window…I mean, how did you know what to do? What part of the brain registers that as a viable exit route? And the blinds rail! It could have snapped! We could have fallen out of the sky! I could have been splattered on the pavement, bits of me embedded all over the street…” Oliver drew back his arm, figuring his touch might not have been the best idea right then. “How, Oliver?”

“I don’t know…” he replied, shaking his head. “I just acted. Pure instinct.” He pulled at his tie, feeling it choking him. “I’ve been in a lot of, uh, pretty intense situations over the years and I’ve had to learn to trust my gut to get me out of them.”

“On the island?” she demanded, her voice still wavering from the bountiful energy emanating from her.

He nodded curtly. “You could say that I had to find a few inventive ways to survive while I was there. But that doesn’t excuse what I did; I shouldn’t have put your life in jeopardy like that. It was reckless of –”

“No, Oliver,” she interjected with closed eyes. With a deep breath she reopened them, the nervy edges now softened. “You saved me. Granted it definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice, but without that little Tarzan stunt I would have been…well I don’t really want to think about that really because,” she pulled away, scrunching her face into one of her many expressions that somehow clearly conveyed what she meant. “The point is you shouldn’t feel guilty about saving my life – even though I can see that it’s too late for that,” she pointed out, indicating with her pointer finger to the lines on his forehead.

“I guess it’s my default setting these days,” he uttered solemnly.

Her back straightened suddenly, her head cocking to the side as she studied him. “It shouldn’t have to be; you shouldn’t put so much pressure on yourself. Especially when you’ve just,” her hands swung to and fro and then pounded the air.

He smirked despite himself. “I think that’s easier said than done.”

Any traces of distress vanished from her features instantly, a much more thoughtful look in its place. “Well, now seems like a good time to start trying.” The sincerity in her words was impossible to overlook, filling up the space between them. “Thank you,” she breathed.

“Anytime.”

She blinked suddenly, as if out of a trance.  “Wow I think my heart is finally starting to beat again at a semi-regular pace; that’s nice,” she said, moving away from him again and observing the mess they had just made.

You shouldn’t put so much pressure on yourself.

Oliver gave himself a moment for her words to sink in. That was all he had been doing for years - one pressure atop of another, building and building, pushing him down, making his body leaden, anchoring him to the guilt he lived his life by…

Pressure was all he knew.

Pressure was all he felt.

As Oliver Queen, CEO; Oliver Queen, son; Oliver Queen, brother; and Oliver Queen, The Hood.

It was probably the adrenaline talking; her mouth and thoughts spilling out of her as they popped into her mind but regardless, it was uncanny how she could say something that hit so close to home at the most inopportune times. He guessed she still saw him better than anyone else.

“Thanks Felicity,” he murmured sincerely.

“For what?”

He chose his words carefully. “For knowing me better than anybody else.”

The twinkle in her eye wasn’t formed from his imagination and her fingers danced together just for something to do, but just as it looked like she was about to say something, a different voice carried through the air, alerting them immediately.

Oliver was on his feet in an instant.

“Oliver! Oliv-”

A swift jab to the stomach cut the call short, his instincts in overdrive. Felicity let out a cry of surprise at his adept timing, her body backing into the room. But it wasn’t until the intruder raised an imposing hand and spoke up that he realized his mistake.

“Dammit Oliver it’s me!”

He jerked back, eyes wide. “Digg? God, Digg I’m sorry!”

His partner, with one knee on the ground and an arm hung around his abdomen, narrowed his eyes, obviously winded. “Tell that to my stomach,” he groaned.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, moving over to hook an arm around the man so he could assist him to his feet.

Through pained lids, Diggle surveyed the decimated office space, wincing every now and again. “I know you’re kind of the king of getting out of tight spots but this,” he waved a hand at the destruction, “is new even for you. Since when did you become Spider-man?”

Oliver rolled his eyes. There was no way anyone was going to let his, truth be told, pretty extravagant stunt slide anytime soon.

“Funny, I thought it was more like Tarzan,” Felicity blurted abruptly and subsequently threw a hand over her mouth as soon as she did.  “Sorry, I have a tendency to say things without thinking - been doing that since I was child and it’s a tough habit to break once you’ve been doing it for practically your whole life and I probably should have stopped talking way sooner…I think I’m coming down from the buzz…”

Kicking glass out of his way, Oliver shuffled over to her, gingerly resting a hand on her elbow in a form of comfort. He was sure hugging would have been unsuitable for the moment that was in it, but knowing that didn’t stifle the growing desire to do so in him. Diggle cleared his throat, the noise discarding his thought process. He turned to face him. “Diggle, this is my…friend, Felicity Smoak,” he announced, gesturing to her. “Felicity,” he looked back at her, “this is John Diggle, my-”

“I’m his black driver.”

Oliver hung his head in exasperation. “And bodyguard and friend,” he supplied. Digg snickered.

“Bodyguard?” she questioned with a wry smile. “Great job up there…” she lifted her hand up, pointing to the ceiling. Oliver and Diggle exchanged amused glances. A beat passed and then, “That was a joke by the way! Sometimes things sound way funnier in my head and I end up either making a fool of myself or offending someone so in case you were wondering…that was a joke.”

John chuckled. “I like her,” he remarked to his boss.

Felicity smiled meekly, extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr Diggle.”

He accepted it. “Likewise, Ms Smoak.” His eyes travelled over to her other hand that rested limply against her hip. “Are you hurt?”

Oliver snapped his stare to her hand immediately, the tension in his shoulders burning.

“It’s nothing,” she assured with a shake of the head. “Probably just a sprain. It could have been a lot worse than that if it weren’t for Oliver.”

“If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t have been there in the first place,” he muttered under his breath but something in the way her ponytail ebbed to the side told him that she had heard it. In effort to sway conversation away from him and them and pretty much anything else to do with what had just happened, Oliver coughed and let go of her elbow.  “Where are the hoods now?” he directed to Diggle.

“SCPD are on site but the hoods got away.”

His jack ticked. “And they came after me.”

“Why?” Felicity posed innocently.  

He puffed heavily. “For weeks they’ve been targeting prominent people of Starling City who they think have been, I don’t know, turning a blind eye in the aftermath of the Undertaking. I guess it was only a matter of time before they decidedly focused on the Queen family. Having our name associated with the biggest disaster to ever hit the city has to pay up at some point.” Even to him his voice sounded defeated, almost forlorn, but there was something so disconcerting about a gang of vigilantes coming after him, Oliver Queen, rather than the Hood. “Something tells me it isn’t the last I’ve seen of them.”

---

The sun had well and truly set by the time they were making their way home.

After they had cleaned up the, thankfully, minimal superficial cuts and scrapes and Felicity had regained most of the control of her limbs, SCPD were extremely keen for information and pounced on them for statements and accounts and what felt like endless circles of questions where the answers served no help to the investigation:

Did you get a good look at them?

Did they say anything?

Do anything that might offer up some information on their identities?

What on earth possessed you to hop out a window?

Any reason they would come after you? – the most ridiculous question of the day really.

It didn’t help either that the series of questioning was carried out by two different detectives and then finally by Detect- no, Officer Lance. Sure, Lance and the Hood had been somewhat working together over the past couple of months even though it had earned the man a demotion in his job, but Lance and Oliver Queen, the CEO, the man who got one of his daughters killed while breaking his other daughter’s heart in the process, were still on shaky terms. His interrogation was…brash to say the least. Full of grunts, disapproving shakes of the head and penetrating stares.

He was a bit gentler to Felicity in all fairness, the father in him shining through his pinched features every once in a while when she rambled too long or made some kind of inappropriate quip or flippant hand movement. Not even men with the most broken of hearts could withstand the sheer light of Felicity Smoak.

Oliver insisted that she ride home with him and Digg when they had finished the last soul destroying loop, mostly wanting to fully make sure she got there safely, but a part of him selfishly yearned to be around her for just a little longer. It was funny how easily he slipped back into the role of protective boyfriend…even though he wasn’t her boyfriend anymore. Teenage Oliver always drove her home, walked her to her door, and waited until she was inside before pulling away – and now at a weary twenty-five, he was essentially doing the same thing. And that mere fact drew out the clouds of dark clawing through him for the time being.

What he hadn’t counted on, though, was Felicity easily accepting his offer. A fiercely independent spirit, she was never a fan of his end of date ritual so when she agreed practically immediately, it took him by surprise. The good kind of surprised, to be honest. Okay, so maybe Diggle’s offer of grabbing some Big Belly Burger to go made it all the more appealing, but either way, she gave no quarrel to them giving her a lift.

“It’s not too far now, just toward the end of that street,” she announced, leaning forward with a hand on the driver’s headrest.

“Just tell me when,” Digg responded chirpily. It was obvious he liked Felicity and Oliver dreaded the ensuing conversations between them that would no doubt occur the minute she stepped into her house. The quick glances in the rear view mirror at them, and the accompanied smirk, told him as much.

“You know, you didn’t have to drive me home,” Felicity said, squeaking against the leather seats as she twisted in Oliver’s direction.

“I think it’s a bit late for that,” he noted whimsically.

“I know, but I just wanted to you to know that. I wasn’t trying to impose myself on you guys and where I live isn’t exactly near the Queen mansion so really I’ve just added trouble to your night and I should have politely declined and let you guys go on without me.”

A playful expression written on his face, he leaned forward into her space. “Felicity, we both know I wouldn’t have left you to make your own way home. And as for causing us trouble, Diggle’s really mad that you ruined his date night.”

The blonde gasped. “You had a date?! Mr Diggle why didn’t you say anything?! Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

John snorted from the front seat. “I think what Oliver’s alluding to is my date night with Ms Pizza and a basketball game. I’m a big romantic.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief and she smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand lightly. “You’re such a jerk sometimes,” she breathed. And then tensed.

Wanting to keep the moment easy, he chuckled once. “I have heard that,” he commented.

What seemed like a myriad of emotions flickered over her face, animating her features in the transient light. She turned away from him, leaning her shoulder into the window as her view raked along the passing scenery. “Oh, Mr Diggle it’s just the house up here, the one with the pink flower pot sitting beside the door,” she proclaimed suddenly, pointing to it even though he couldn’t see her from where he sat.

“You got it. And call me Digg – Mr Diggle makes me sounds like my father.”

“Okay…Digg,” she tested with a quick nod.

The car swerved to sidle up to the sidewalk, coming to a stop outside her townhouse. Unable to help himself, Oliver moved forward to have a good look at it. What he found most interesting about her home was how much it resembled the one she used to live in all those years ago, down to the flower pots and mailbox; like himself, she was drawn to familiarity like a moth to a flame.

“I like your house.”

She whipped around, eyebrows hiked. Then, her face relaxed. “Thanks. It’s no Queen mansion but it does the job.”

His lips twitched. “Isn’t this the part where you apologize profusely for passing comment at how much money my family has?” he asked good-naturedly, doing absolutely nothing to hide his delight that she remembered their exchange from their first date.

Felicity collected her bag from the floor, hooking it over her shoulder, looking everywhere else but at him. A pang of rejection scratched through him. “Not this time,” she answered a little sadly.

He pursed his lips, his hands dropping onto his lap. “How about I walk you to your door?”

“No, Oliver, it’s okay.” Upon his crestfallen demeanour, she tagged on, “But you can stay here until I’m safely inside if it makes you feel any better.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

Her smile was genuine, reaching her eyes this time and with a cute shove of her glasses, she cleared her throat. “Thank you for today. You know, for the lift and the food and the saving of my life. You always have ways of surprising me.”

“Felicity, you don’t have to thank me, I’ll alwa-” His phone buzzed erratically in his pocket, distracting him. He raised a finger asking her to wait, muttered an apology as he grappled with his suit pocket, and took it out. “Oliver Queen,” he greeted, doing nothing to hide his chagrin.

“Oliver? It’s Lance.”

He swallowed, feeling apprehensive at the tone. “What can I do for you, Officer Lance?”

He could feel both Felicity and Diggle’s eyes on him but his kept his stare fixated in front of him, not focusing on anything in particular. The weight in his chest began to expand, stretching out through his ribcage, clogging him up. 

“It’s…it’s about your sister. Thea.”

His throat constricted. “What about her?” he hissed through his teeth.

Lance hesitated on the other end and Oliver wished he could reach through the phone and shake the man for answers.

“What about her?” he boomed again, urging the man to speak.

In the corner of his subconscious he vaguely felt the soft touch of a hand on his arm but in that moment all he could feel was every hair on the back of his neck rise, the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach churning briskly.

“She’s been taken. By the Hood copycats.”

All of the breath sagged out of his body in one swoop, leaving him sinking forward so far that his forehead met the headrest of the passenger seat.

“Oliver?” Felicity asked in ultimate concern, her arms enveloping him.

“When?” he seethed into the receiver. “When was she taken?”

“About a half hour ago,” Lance stated matter-of-factly. “Listen, Oliver we’re doing everything we can and we’re gonna get her back, okay?”

“Do you have any leads? Any idea where they might have taken her?”

“We’re working on it.”

“Do you have anything, Lance?” he barked, shooting upright, Hood persona taking over.

The officer gave a large sigh in obvious deliberation.

“Please,” Oliver whispered, knowing full well that there was no good reason as to why Lance would offer him any information on the case, but he had to take the chance. Thea was missing, taken by some crazed psychos hell-bent on a vengeance crusade and he’d be damned if he didn’t suck the well dry trying to find her.

“There was one thing,” he relented. “One of the guys – African American going by witness statements – is missing a hand. We’re running checks on him now.”

Good. Something new to go on. It was small but it was better than nothing.  

“Look, Oliver,” he exhaled. “I’ll call you as soon as we hear anything. Sit tight. We’re gonna bring your sister home.”

Then the phone went dead.

In a rush of anger, Oliver flung the device against the seat, his hands scraping through his hair. The phone bounced onto the ground and landed by Felicity’s feet. Warily, she collected it and held it close to her.

Uncertainty and fear clouded the air; Diggle was the first to cut through. “Oliver, what’s going on?”

He raised his chin defiantly. “The copycats took Thea.”

Digg cursed under his breath.

Felicity gasped in horror. “Oh my God Oliver, I’m so sorry! Do – do they know where they’ve taken her?”

“No,” he acknowledged through gritted teeth. “But I’m going to find out.”

“How?” his friend asked with knitted eyebrows. “We don’t even know what they look like much less where they’d be.”

“Lance gave me some information. I just have to work off that.”

The blonde’s hand came over to clasp his, her thumb rolling over his knuckles. “Oliver, don’t hate me, but shouldn’t you leave this to the police?”

He finally met her eyes. “I can’t sit and do nothing, Felicity. I have to find her.”

She drew back resolutely, determination etched into her face. “Okay. And I’m going to help.”

---

His hands were clammy.

That was literally the only thing winding through his mind as they walked through the park, the sun blinding, the sky clear for miles.

He could feel the moisture generate in his palm every time her hand tightened or her fingers squirmed through his and though there were a million other things he would rather focus on – like how her cheeks blushed pretty much any time he said something complimentary or how her hair waved behind her in the breeze or her laugh (which was like a manifestation of sunshine) – he couldn’t keep his thoughts off his sweaty hands. Typical.

And boy was it hot.

He was sure his shirt was beginning to stick to his back. How attractive.

“Are you okay?” Felicity suddenly asked mid-story. She was talking animatedly about her best friend back in Coast City. Her name was Dani and she sounded like the exact opposite to Felicity, but the way her free hand danced in the air and her eyes brightened when she talked about her intrigued him. Oliver knew how it felt to have a best friend that you knew everything about and could talk about anything with, and he understood the excitement with which she held herself over the topic.

Apparently, however, Felicity was perceptive and happened to notice his slight distraction.

“Yeah, yeah,” he assured with a grin. “It’s just really hot out, you know?” He fanned himself with his hand just to go that extra mile…because he was an idiot.

“Tell me about it,” she agreed, blowing some air onto her face. “Sorry about my hands by the way; they’re really sweaty – which is really disgusting when I think about it. In my head it sounded totally normal.”

Oh thank God. He could almost definitely feel the relief seep through his pores.

Oliver choked out an incredulous laugh. When she tried to remove her fingers from his, he only strengthened his grip. “So are mine,” he confessed dramatically as if it was a big secret. “Just don’t tell anybody, okay?”

“Deal.” A crooked smile broke out and she swung their hands more forcefully than before. He loved that she started to relax around him, a playfulness she hadn’t really exhibited before, or at least not a side to her that he had seen much of, eking its way out. “Anyway, you’re probably sick of hearing about my friend-”

“No I’m not,” he interjected. “She sounds…”

“Different,” she supplied with a chuckle. “Yeah, we’re pretty opposite. But I think that’s what makes us work so well.”

“You miss her,” he deduced softly, ducking his head so she’ll meet his spheres.

She raised one shoulder. “Yeah, I do. This is the first time I’ve ever moved and to leave the only place I know and go to a completely different one where I don’t know anybody has been harder than I thought it’d be. Sometimes I just wish Dani was here, you know?” Her head twisted away to look at a gaggle of kids running around happily on the green, their elated screams rising up into the air. “I know I’ve made friends here but…I don’t know…it’s just different.”

That was the first time Oliver had heard her so…sad. Here was this girl that appeared to embody so much cheerfulness and joy sounding like the loneliest person in the world. It was then in that moment, as he watched her get lost in the children’s enjoyment, that he promised that he’d do everything he could so that she’d never feel like that again.

Feeling the way he did when he was around her was certainly alien to him, but somehow he just knew that this girl, that Felicity, had the potential to be so much more to him. At sixteen, love – or the idea of love – seemed like something out of movie, a destination too far away for contemplation…but was he crazy for thinking that maybe he was already falling for her?

He tugged at her hand to root her to the spot and she looked back at him quizzically. “You know, sometimes it’s better to have one really good friend than a bunch of people you only kind of know. Dani’s your best friend and just because you’re living in two different cities doesn’t mean that’ll change; you might even get closer.” He knew that his words resonated with her when she eyed him in what could only be described as wonder. “Tommy’s my best friend,” he continued, feeling slightly self-conscious considering he was not known to be an open guy, “and in many ways I feel like he’s my only friend. From the outside it probably looks like I have a lot but being Oliver Queen…it comes with a territory. It can be difficult to figure out who your real friends are.” He frowned a little. “Anyway, uh, years ago, Tommy’s family used to go on vacation for the whole summer and it was really tough, you know? I used to count down the days until he’d be back; being a kid billionaire without any friends is not a lot of fun. So I sort of know how you feel.” He offered her a small smile.

“Well I’d like to think that you have another friend now,” she said shyly, moving their interlocked hands around.

“And so do you.”

Cue the blush again. He’d never tire of that sight. “You know you’re different than people say.”

Pools of blue met, the breeze calming for that breath of a moment as though observing them. “Well, most people fail to see the real me,” he admitted, the ghost of a smile forming. “So…ice cream?”

She nodded. “Ice cream.”

---

He knew what she was capable of, of course - if there was one thing Felicity knew better than herself it was computers, but to see just how quickly she had managed to wrangle information was amazing. It was as though her fingers moved on their own accord, knowing exactly what to do and executing the plan as fast as humanly possible. He watched her work, hovering over her frame as she sat at her dining room table with Diggle flanking her on the other side, also visibly enthralled by her work ethic.

Every passing second caused his heart to pound harder, his fingers drumming against the table just for something to do. In the crowded mess of his mind, he clung to the sliver of hope that they hadn’t killed Thea on site which meant they were waiting, biding time…most likely for Oliver. Truth be told, the idea that was she was still alive, still breathing for now kept him going, kept him from spiralling into a blind rage; he understood that information was vital, and Felicity was the only one that was able to help him at this point.

“Felicity, are you hacking into the hospital’s mainframe?” Digg asked, his tone half-disbelief and half-admiration.

Her bottom lip jutted out as she spied the screen over her glasses. “Hacking is such an ugly word; no, I’m…yeah, totally hacking into the hospital mainframe.” At his bemused face, she elaborated, “We know that one of the hoods is missing a hand, so I thought we’d check to see if there have been any males that have had surgical amputations on their extremities…”

“And cross-checking them by race and age,” Oliver concluded.

“Exactly.”

Diggle crossed his arms and smiled. “Now that is impressive.”

In a matter of seconds, Felicity pumped her fist in the air, a clear indicator that she had found something. She had always been competitive when it came to, well, everything and over time, had developed that gesture as her form of victory celebration. Oliver had never been happier than to see it then. “Got one. Jeff Deveaux; African-American; late thirties.”

“Anything else on him?” Oliver enquired, feeling his body start to shake in anticipation.

She worked away again. “He’s an ex-marine. Lost his hand in the Undertaking.” Her face dropped. “And his wife.”

“What about his phone records?” the other man suggested. “We can find out who he’s been in contact with.”

A sheer doggedness he had never witnessed in her before seemed to take over as she punched the keys. “Okay…so he’s made a lot of phone calls to a church in the Glades – something called ‘Standing Strong’. It’s a support group for those who lost loved ones in the earthquake,” she read off the screen.

“And who wants to bet the other hoods are members of the same group?” Oliver thought out-loud. “Get me an address please.”

Concern seemed to filter through the blonde’s demeanour as she pulled up the address. “Oliver, I understand that you want to help get Thea back but I really think you need to tell the police these details. You can’t just go there, they’ll kill you – you have to talk to Officer Lance. He’ll be able to help.”

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face impatiently and resting his body against the wall. The easy option would have been to tell her who he really was but he’d already made his decision not to drag her down that path – and he was going to stick with it. “Yeah, yeah you’re right. I’m just really worried about Thea. We’re gonna go talk to the police right now, right Digg?”

John gave an imperceptible shake of the head, not a fan of Oliver’s deflection. “Yeah, we are.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, no,” Oliver exclaimed, pushing off the wall and moving to her side. “Felicity you’ve already helped us so much and I can’t thank you enough. You’re…amazing.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind going to the precinct with you.”

He forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace and placed his hand on her shoulder. “No really it’s okay. But I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything. I promise.”

“Okay,” she relented in understanding.

“Thank you,” he reiterated, squeezing her shoulder.

With a stern look in his partner’s direction, they were on their way.

He was going to get his sister back.

---

“I have to admit, this is really good ice cream,” Felicity hummed in approval as she devoured the treat.

Oliver raised his chin smugly. “Told you.”

“And who knew we liked the same flavour.”

“Oh, there is nothing that mint chip can’t fix,” he asserted.

They had found a bench at the edge of the park that was relatively covered in shade by the trees behind it and decided to sit down after they’d bought two cones. After a few minutes, Oliver bit the bullet and draped an arm along the top of it and around her, letting his fingers just brush off the exposed skin on her arm. She had turned into him as they spoke, their knees constantly connected as they ate. All the while this charge seemed to sit between them, an electricity that he’d never encountered before.

The best thing about the date was that the conversation never stalled; Felicity, by nature, was a talker and Oliver, as long as he was invested, could talk for hours on end to anyone who would listen. He knew almost immediately that they could talk for hours and hours and hours, never tiring of listening to the other one recall stories or passing comment on the most trivial of things. The thing was, most of the time, they weren’t really talking about anything; it was just random spurts of thoughts connecting and flowing into something else entirely, never once stopping even when he said something stupid that forced him to bite his tongue or she babbled for a little too long. As funny as it sounded, despite them being wholly different people, it was almost as if they were on the same wavelength, able to understand the other through a single glance.

It was just so easy; so natural.

Nothing between them was forced. It was like she brought out a side to him that he wasn’t too familiar with and he did the same for her, each of them exploring and discovering new feelings and thoughts.

Was a first date supposed to be this good?

“So, how did you find the best ice cream in the city?”

He looked out toward the dimming sun. “Raisa used to take me here when I was younger and I would kick up a fuss if I didn’t get some ice cream before we went back home.” He laughed a little. “I was a very persuasive child.”

She beamed. “I bet.” She bit into her cone. “Who’s Raisa?”

“Technically? She works for my family. Realistically? She’s kind of like my second mom. My parents are busy people and she’s been there for both me and Thea since as long as I can remember,” he said fondly.

“How old is Thea?”

His legs crossed at his ankles, his body slumping down on the seat. “Six and three-quarters,” he quipped. “She’s a firecracker, chasing around after me everywhere I go. She’s the cutest kid with the biggest heart.” He smiled. “I spend a lot of time with her, especially when my mom isn’t around or my dad’s at work and I love it, to be honest. If I’m having a bad day, she’s the one person who can make me laugh. Plus, we have awesome tea parties.”

Felicity giggled. “Oh really?”

“Definitely. Maybe you can come to one some time,” he commented nonchalantly even though he was internally screaming. He braced himself for her response.

“I’d like that,” she answered chirpily. Damn that felt good. “You know, I know what that’s like – not having a little sister because I’m only child and the only experience I have with kids is that little girl that lives next door but she’s kind of annoying…but the whole busy parent thing. Sometimes it’s like my mom is always working. I only really get to see her at weekends and even then she’s glued to her cell.”

Oliver popped the last bit of his cone in his mouth, his fingers idly tracing nonsensical patterns on her skin. “What about your dad?”

Almost immediately she tensed and his hand stilled, sensing the sudden shift. Awkwardly, she toyed with her glasses, her head hanging toward the ground.

He wanted to kick himself. “Felicity, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-”

She pushed some of her hair behind her ear, looking back up at him through her eyelashes. “No, it’s okay, Oliver.” Her head shook as if the action could bring her back to a better state of mind. “I don’t know my dad,” she said with a breathy whisper. He felt his heart twist in pain for her. “He left when I was really young and I barely remember him. But I do remember how much it hurt when he left.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pulling her closer to him, wishing he could say something better, could express something that would make everything okay for her. He hated the thought of Felicity hurting.

“Don’t be. I’m a big girl,” she laughed, but instead of its usual musical quality, it fell flat in melancholy. Shoving hair off her face, her depths appraised him tenderly, her lips curling upward. “But thank you.”

A loose crooked smirk appeared on his face, his eyebrows raised in the hope that he could bring back her full beam again.

And it did.

And then, ever so slowly, she leaned forward into him, their faces centimetres apart, and she kissed him. It was sweet and dripping in affection and though it took him a second longer than he would have liked to react, he kissed her back with the same reverence, his hand coming up to frame the side of her face as hers hooked into his shirt. Every part of him came alive, his heart racing as their lips moved to a rhythm neither of them set but understood anyway.

She was the first one to break away for much needed air. “Wow,” she breathed, licking her lips.

Wow indeed.

---

Thea made it home unscathed later that night.

Once the suit was on, Oliver Queen was no more. He was the Hood; a man on a mission. And he was going to get his sister back.

Surprisingly enough, he was able to infiltrate the church with relative ease, using the upper echelons of the building as a means of catching them off-guard. Thea was tied to a chair in the middle of the aisle as the men huddled around her in obvious dispute as their guns swung listlessly from side to side as though they were mere toys instead of the lethal weapons they were. Oliver steeled himself, feeling the fury stir within him the more he saw how careless they were being with a life bound in front of them.

He knew it was time to take action.

Arrows were flung.

And shots were fired back.

They came at him like an oncoming storm, their moves sloppy due to the element of surprise. Mostly they attacked and hoped, their manoeuvres never having any impact as Oliver slipped and swirled out of their way, utilising their loose abandon as a means of taking them out one by one. Deftly avoiding their advances while using skills he had acquired and perfected on the island, he fast gained the upper hand, noting that the only other person in his way had cut Thea free and was dragging her across the building.

He chased after him, his quiver taut and ready. Ignoring the taunts and cries of the man and focusing solely on his sister’s suffering, Oliver shot an arrow into the man’s shoulder, sending him over the balcony.

He could have let him drop to his death. He could have let him pay. But his no-killing rule bobbed in the back of his mind and he was acutely aware that despite his mission, despite his anger, he couldn’t let the darkness consume him. He had to honour Tommy’s memory; and he wasn’t going to let these lowlifes be the reason he tarnished the vow he had made. 

Ultimately, the choice was a simple one. He saved him.

Thea was alive and unharmed – that was all that mattered.

Once he tied the vigilantes to the railing outside the church as a gift to the SCPD, his job was done and he headed back to the foundry.

---

“So she’s okay?” Felicity asked for the fourth time, unable to cover her relief even over the phone. He could practically hear her teeth release her bottom lip.

Oliver grinned, feeling freer than he had in hours. “Yeah, other than a little shaken up she seems fine.”

“I’m so glad that she’s alright.”

“Me too.” He perched himself on the medical table, one leg firmly planted on the ground while the other dangled in the air. “Listen, we wouldn’t have found her if it wasn’t for you, Felicity; I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oliver, in case you forgot, you saved my life earlier – wow it’s been a long day…” she trailed off for a second and then, “so really it was nothing. You know Thea’s important to me. I was just happy that I could do something.”

“Still…thank you.” He just needed for her to accept it, needed her to understood how much her help mattered to him.

She waited for a few beats on the other end. “You’re welcome, Oliver.”

He smiled into the phone.

“Anyway I better get some sleep. I’ve got work in the morning and well when I don’t get at least six hours I can’t function properly and I need to be on top of my game because I’m still new to the job and I can’t afford to slack off just yet…not that I plan on slacking off in the future…and I can’t believe I just said that to my boss. Just pretend I said nothing, okay?”

He nodded. “Deal. Goodnight, Felicity,” he said softly.

“Goodnight, Oliver,” she replied in the same tone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                       

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Iron Heights had this claustrophobic feel to it. As with any prison, the sense of being confined, of checking your freedom at the door as you waded further into its hallowed halls, pervaded throughout, making Oliver itch somewhat. It had a weird way of trudging up whatever paranoia existed inside of you, heightening it to the point where furtive glances from left to right become the default. It even smelled clinical; dust and chemical based cleaners blended into a burning stench that whacked you in the face the moment you stepped over the threshold. Just the thought of his mother spending her days locked in a concrete cell amongst hardened criminals who observed zero degree of remorse for the crimes they had committed caused a storm of nausea within him. Could he condone her actions – the Undertaking? Lying to both him and Thea? No.

But he could appreciate and understand the duress that Malcolm Merlyn put her under. He was a murderer; he was the instigator. It was his plan. She was merely acting out as a concerned mother.

What she did the night of the disaster ending up saving more lives than she could have ever hoped for. And her standing up in front of the city relaying her wrongs in an effort so that they had a chance, that they could live, showed true character and courage. And Oliver would be damned if he didn’t show her support at her time in need.

Bottom line? She was his mother, and she had been there for him more times than he could count.

He and Thea sat waiting in the visitor’s area, their hands intertwined as his sister bounced her knee erratically, making the table shake. Though she had been there a number of times, and had frequently visited by herself, Thea always looked to be on the edge of her seat, her body on the cusp of taking flight just in case. All Oliver could do was offer her a small smile and a squeeze of her hand to keep her grounded. No matter how insignificant they seemed, the gestures always seemed appreciated.

Moira Queen strode into the room with confidence, a regal-like air about her as bored guards flanked her sides, as if she was a queen and them her tired servants. Only she could make an entrance in that in prison. Oliver stood and hugged her, letting himself rest in her embrace for the moment before Thea pulled her to her in an almost desperate act of assurance. The hard lines on his mother’s face softened as she regarded her daughter, the severity of the situation forgotten briefly, a smile gracing her features.

“How are you, dear?” she asked as she slinked onto the seat across from them, her mother mode on full alert.

Thea looked at Oliver. “I’m okay,” she said with a shrug, playing it off. “Still a little jumpy I guess.”

“I demanded a call to the police the moment I caught the news but clearly the well-being of a child does not rank highly among the officers here. And neither does being a Queen unfortunately.” She sighed. “It wasn’t until a saw the bulletin later that I found out you were safe.”

Oliver took his sister’s hand again, sensing the apprehension emanating off her. Ever since the kidnapping, Thea had been having starts and spurts of panic attacks and Oliver, though not always available to help her, had been doing his best to support her in any way that he could. “The main thing is that she’s safe and the men who took her have been apprehended,” he contributed matter-of-factly. “We can put this all behind us.”

Moira reached across the metal table and took her children’s hands in her own. Her face crestfallen, she swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry that I’m not able to be there for both of you right now.”

“No, mom…” Thea shook her head harshly, “…it’s okay. I’m okay, I promise.” Her mom shot her a sad smile, obviously not truly buying it. “And I’ve got Ollie,” she tagged on, shouldering him and in doing so, eliciting a kiss on the head from him. “So I’m good.”

“Yeah, mom. We’re good.”

Resignedly, Moira shuddered a sigh, nodding her head as she moved back but keeping her hands locked to theirs. “You both are so strong. I don’t know where you get that strength from.”

“We’re Queens,” Oliver remarked wistfully. “We learned from the best.”

The slightest sparkle returned to the woman’s eyes. Her natural fire had extinguished the more the weeks prolonged; the inevitability of trial and the highly plausible outcome hanging heavily in her depths, sapping the energy that rested in her expression. Even to see a miniscule of her spirit make an appearance allowed Oliver to breathe easier.

All around them, guards escorted handcuffed prisoners into the area to meet loved ones, the atmosphere an odd mixture of relief and sadness. A sniffle from behind them cemented the true nature of where they were seated, the weight of situation once again making itself known. Recognizing it straight away, Moira flicked the stray hairs off her face and cleared her throat. “So…what else has been going on in your lives? If I know my children, I know that there’s nearly always something else thrumming on in the background,” she said lightly. “How’s Roy, Thea?”

Roy was two years older than Thea – making him seventeen and verging on being an adult, and while Thea’s sixteenth birthday was fast approaching, Oliver did not approve of her spending so much time with him. She claimed they were just friends…but nobody looked at their friends like that. Plus, Roy was from the Glades and was known by SCPD for his frequent rough-housing; not exactly glowing references as a potential boyfriend for his little sister.

“He’s okay,” Thea replied, rolling her eyes at his involuntary grunt.

“Keeping out of trouble?”

Her eyes widened, lips pursed. Oliver watched on in amusement, knowing all too well how much trouble Roy had found himself in over the past few weeks. Being The Hood had its advantages when it came to keeping an eye on Thea’s love interest.

“Yeah, sis, is Roy keeping out of trouble?” he goaded playfully.

The younger Queen glared at him until the corner of her mouth pulled up into an impish grin. “Hey mom, do you remember Felicity Smoak?” she asked, keeping her stare fixed on her brother. Oliver’s shoulders dropped, the blood rushing out of his face in record speed.

“Felicity Smoak…” his mother echoed aloud, her forehead creased into a V, a smile lurking on her lips. “How could I forget the talkative blonde girl that had Oliver completely smitten when he was a teenager?”

“I…was not…smitten,” he insisted weakly.

His mother levelled him with an Are-you-serious?-look, her head lolling to the side in that knowing way.

Thea smirked, visibly relieved that she had managed to change the subject and utilise her gossip skills all at once. “Well she’s back in town,” she informed eagerly as if he wasn’t sitting right next to her. “And Oliver is back to completely crushing on her again.”

“Oh I think your brother had a little more than just a crush on her.”

“Do we really have to talk about this?” he interjected in exasperation. It was bad enough that he was constantly subjecting himself to this torture but to have the rest of his family hop on the bandwagon wasn’t helping.

Moira’s expression softened and she leaned forward onto the table as if ready to conspire. “You loved her, Oliver,” she said simply, as if her words didn’t mean anything. His breath hitched at the turn in the conversation. “It’s rather difficult to forget someone like Felicity. She certainly had a hold on your heart; I knew that from the moment I met her.”

Oliver sat back. “You did?”

“Ollie, everybody could see how you felt about her – it was like you walked around with hearts in your eyes! If it wasn’t kinda gross it would have been cute.”

He coughed a laugh. “Gee, thanks Thea.”

The older woman patted his hand, garnering his attention. “So she’s back in town…”

“Yes he is,” he affirmed with a puff of breath.

“And?”

He turned his head toward the ceiling, shrugging. “And that’s it. She’s working at Queen’s Consolidated and I’m trying not to…” he struggled to define what exactly he was doing, “push her, I guess. Seeing me again…it’s – I don’t think she really knows how to deal with it. Honestly, neither do I.”

“You were both very hurt with how it ended,” Moira added, now rubbing circles on the back of his hand in comfort. That was something she did when he was younger and needed his mom. She’d take his hands, anchoring him, steadying him, the simple movements a way of calming him down and allowing him to focus on them alone instead of the whirlwind that was his mind. He recalled her doing that after Felicity had left and he told her what happened between them. The gesture now seemed to conjure the same feeling within him.

“We were just kids. We felt things deeper than we probably should have.”

Thea rolled her eyes dramatically. “Sometimes you are just too much, Oliver,” she groaned, dropping her head to the table for a second to emphasise her point. “When are you ever going to cut yourself some slack? Just because you were a teenager doesn’t mean that what you felt wasn’t real.”

“Your sister’s right, you know,” the other woman agreed with a chuckle.

He rolled his lips in. “Even if she is right, it doesn’t mean that we can just go back to the way things were. You know that, mom. That’s not how the world works.”

“No, of course not. You’re older now; you have different life...experiences.” Her face wrinkled as though the word caused her actual physical pain. “But did you ever stop to think that maybe the reason she doesn’t know how to deal with you being back in her life is because a part of her still wishes you both could try it again? After all, that is what you want.”

Oliver tossed his head from side to side, coming up with nothing to retort. Eventually a small smile of admission broke through his stony demeanour and Moira winked in the way she used to when he was child.

Mothers: they could see right through you.

---

“What if she doesn’t like me?” Felicity asked, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in her pink dress before moving her hands to her hair, running her fingers through the ends.

That was the tenth time she’d asked that in the time it took for him to collect her, drive them back to his house and walk up to the front door, and for the tenth time he felt the need to assure her. This time though he grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop just before they entered the almighty Queen mansion – her words, not his. “Hey,” he said quietly, ignoring the bustle all around him. Her eyes darted left, right, up, down as if trying to take literally everything detail in but as soon as she heard him speak her glance shifted to his. “My mom is going to love you. You have absolutely nothing to worry about; just be yourself.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” she asserted, anxiously curling hair behind her ear. “You know I speak before I think; what if I say something that makes her hate me?”

“Like about how hot her son is?” he offered coyly.

“I’m serious.”

He grinned. “So am I.” That earned him a roll of the eyes and a playful smack on his chest. “Look, just relax. My mom barely acknowledges my existence at these benefit things, so at most it’ll be a quick hello, a few minutes hanging out in the main hall, and then a trip to the study to watch a movie, okay?”

She nodded profusely, taking a large breath. “Okay, okay.” She gulped. “Okay. Promise you won’t leave my side?”

Oliver hooked an arm around her waist and leaned in to plant a chaste kiss to her cheek. “I promise.”

Under his touch, he felt her physically relax, resting into the pressure. With a charming smile firmly in place, he squeezed her hip lightly as they entered the house, the benefit already in full swing.

The problem with being a Queen was that no matter your age, it was expected of you to show up to each and every function, event, or party thrown. When he was younger, he enjoyed the idea of staying up late and mingling with people who treated him like some kind of prince, but at sixteen he’d already had his fill of small talk and boredom and when offered the chance to bring a friend, Oliver grasped at it immediately.

Of course, his mother probably meant Tommy; the last thing she expected was Oliver’s very blonde, very beautiful girlfriend…

“Seriously if you leave my side I will hack into your computer and spam your desktop with pictures of fluffy animals,” Felicity warned breathily, her head facing away from him.

“You know, you’re kinda cute when you’re being all threatening…”

She made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and sigh. “Shut up, Oliver.”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” he chuckled as he guided them deftly around a cluster of tired businessman talking about golf while their wives knocked back glasses of champagne and toward the large spread of food laid out in the main room. “And I told you, I’m not leaving your side.”

Weirdly smooth jazz filtered through the air; one more thing that made the whole spectacle that little bit more pretentious if you asked him.

“But what if you have to go to the bathroom and I’m left standing here in the middle of the floor with a bunch of strangers and then your mother comes along demanding to know who I am and…” she trailed off, her cheeks flushed, “I’m not very good at this, that’s all.”

He rested a hand on her shoulder, lovingly rubbing his thumb across her collarbone before moving his hand up her neck until he was cupping the side of her face. “I won’t go to the bathroom,” he insisted lightly. “I’m pretty good at holding it in.”

Finally she smiled, and his heart skipped a beat. Three months of spending almost every day with her and his heart still did unnatural things when he was around her; in fact, the more time he spent with her, the stronger his feelings grew. He couldn’t see a day where he wouldn’t feel that way about Felicity Smoak.

“I’m sorry,” she groaned, twisting her bracelet around her wrist.

“For what?”

She dropped her eyes. “For acting like this. I bet this isn’t how you thought this night would go.”

 “Felicity,” he said in that way that made it sound like a full sentence, “the only part of this night I care about is being here with you, so it’s going great in my book. And have I mentioned how hot you look tonight by the way? Because you do.”

The girl narrowed her eyes, pink lips tugging upwards. “Always a charmer,” she drawled. “And you’re not so bad yourself.”

A spark of heat soared through him and for the first time in his life he was glad he was wearing a tuxedo.

He angled his elbow so she could hook her arm through his. “Why thank you, milady. So…what do you say we get this over with so we can ditch this shindig – you ready to meet my mom?”

“No,” she answered automatically, causing him to laugh at the abruptness. She smiled sheepishly. “But I guess you’re right. Better to bite the bullet, get it over with. It’s just like a ripping a band-aid off, right?”

Oliver barely knew what she was talking about but he agreed nonetheless, pumping her hand three times in assurance.

---

As soon as he caught sight of her twirling on her office chair and waving the pen she held in her hands, he couldn’t hold back his smile. She had earphones in her ear, the sound of the music loud enough to create that buzzy noise, and she hummed out the tune, her shoulders bopping along to the beat. She always had a nice voice.

For a second he felt like an intruder, someone observing a private scene, but in all honesty, he couldn’t force himself to look away. So he stood there leaning against the door jamb with his arms behind his back, one leg crossed over the other, and a smile so wide that his whole face lit up watching her become lost in her own world. There was a time after he had returned from the island where he thought he’d never really smile again; maybe a part of him believed he didn’t deserve to, maybe another part of him just didn’t have enough faith in himself to allow that kind of light back into his life again. Broken, unfixable Oliver Queen.

Maybe not so much anymore.

Felicity was on her third rotation when her eyes clapped to him in frightened realization, her pen slipping from her fingers and collapsing onto the carpet. With haste she ripped the earphones from her ears. “Wha - how long have you been standing there?” she stuttered, pushing loose strands behind her ears.

“Not long enough,” he said smoothly.

She raised an eyebrow, the blush fading from her face. “You realize how creepy that sounds, right?”

He chuckled, stepping further into her office. “Noted.”

Felicity’s office space was quite the spectacle. Whereas most people preferred to leave their area devoid of their own personality aside from the odd family photograph or a calendar full of cat pictures, hers was the opposite. Neon-coloured post-its decorated the wall next to her computer, scattered around in some nonsensical pattern, her flowery handwriting scrawled across them. On the wall over the adjoining desk, random pictures of Felicity with her friends at various points in her life took up most of the space. In one corner, a pile of magazines laid sweetly, the top one crooked and lying half open. The other corner boasted decorative box of lavender scented tissues (the smell calmed her) as well as several opened boxes of candy.

“So what brings you by, Mr Queen?” she asked with the hint of a smile.

Oliver removed one hand from behind his back to reveal a steaming cup of coffee and placed it in front of her.

She puckered her lips. “You…brought me a coffee?”

“Yeah,” he replied simply.

Felicity took it in her hands and swished it around a little, staring into the cup like she would find the answer to all of life’s questions if she stared hard enough. She took a sip, the wheels in her head turning as she appraised him. Then, her eyes shone knowingly. “You need help with something.”

“How do you do that?”

“Must be magic,” she answered confidently.

He dropped his shoulders and breathed out a laugh. “It’s nothing major; just a little research.”

Her fingers brushed over the keyboard. “I should add ‘Personal internet researcher for Oliver Queen’ to my job description.” She smiled. “Happily, I mean.”

“Well I was hoping this would soften the blow,” he said, moving his other hand from behind his back.

“But I thought that was what the coffee was fo-” Felicity stopped when she saw what he was holding, her hands freezing mid-air.

He presented her the tablet with care, silently urging her to take it from him.

A few seconds of her pointing at it and her mouth opening and closing followed. Finally, she managed to get her words out, “What…why….what is that?”

“Haven’t you seen a tablet before?”

“Oliver!” she exclaimed, her loud voice making an appearance. He flinched slightly, his fingers flexing around the device. “What is this? What are you doing?”

“Will you just take it from me?”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. “No? What do you mean ‘no’?”

“What I mean is that if I take that from you then I’m pretty sure I won’t want to give it back but I can’t do that because I can’t accept it…you see?”

In exasperation, Oliver dragged over the chair by the door and dropped onto it. “Look, I know your tablet was destroyed when the hoods attacked and I know how much your technology means to you so I just wanted to…get you a new one.”

“My tablet was destroyed because I decided to swing it at somebody – which now that I think of it was an extremely violent thing to do…” she shook her head, “anyway, what I’m saying is it’s not your fault so you don’t have to buy me a new one just because you feel guilty. Like I said, we’re even. No one owes anybody anything.”

He should have known how difficult this particular exchange was going to be. It was always the same story at birthdays and Hanukkah: he’d buy her something that may or may not have been on the pricey side and they’d spend who knows how long arguing over how he shouldn’t have spent so much money all the while he would insist that he wanted to spend it on her because she was worth it. Most times it was difficult to tell who would come out on top.

Just like this time.

“Why can’t you just accept it?” he inquired, shoving it back in her direction.

Her expression softened, a flicker of something flashing in her blues. “Because, Oliver, it’s not right. As much as I would love it – and I would really love it, I can’t just take it. I mean, it’s really sweet of you but…” she paused, her eyes closing for a second, her hand clenching into a fist, “it’s not your place anymore. Just because you feel…like you owe me, or feel like it was a good idea to get it for me…doesn’t mean that you should. We’re not…”

“Felicity, it’s okay,” he interjected evenly, hoping that he was doing a good job at hiding his deflation. Deep down he knew she would hate the fact that he went out and bought her something, but what he didn’t expect was how much the rejection of it would hurt. Why did everything have to be so complicated? “You win,” he said with a forced grin. “You were always better at arguing your case when it came to presents; I should have known I wouldn’t win.”

“You always caved too easily,” she joked nostalgically, turning her attention back to her computer.

“That’s true.”

 “So,” she continued, clearing her throat, “what do you need?”

Right. Business time.

A serial killer by the name of The Dollmaker had escaped from Iron Heights after the Undertaking and lately had resumed his malevolent practices, preying on young, unsuspecting women at night and transforming them into something sick and twisted to nurse his warped mind. SCPD were hot on the case and despite commands not to do so, Officer Lance had been feeding The Hood as much information as possible; when he knew something, so did Oliver. It had taken longer than he had hoped but finally he had the link, the vital part of the investigation in his possession, to take the psycho down.

“I was wondering if you could find this particular skin cream for me-”

“Skin cream?” she repeated sceptically.

He nodded, resting his arms on her desk. “Yeah, uh Thea’s birthday is coming up soon and I’m trying to get her a bunch of different things that I know that she likes…aside from the car.” His gaze remained fixed away from her because he just knew she was shooting a piercing look in his direction. “Anyway, all I know is that it’s called mermaid something or other.”

“Wait, you want to get her a car and some skin cream?”

He hesitated. “Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’.

Felicity shook her head, utter bewilderment written in her features. “Well the only skin cream I know that’s to do with mermaids is Mermaiden. I use that one.”

His orbs widened. “You do?”

She started back at the intensity of his question, her office chair squeaking under the surprise strain. “Yeah.”

Trying to cover his outburst, Oliver sat back up straight and buttoned up his suit jacket just so that his hands had something to do. “Does that cream contain ethylparaben and sodium laureth sulphate?” At the blonde’s probing gaze, he continued, “Uh, she…she has allergies and I just want to make sure that this is the right stuff. I know that those chemicals are…in whatever she buys.”

So much for having an orchestrated excuse at the ready. He really needed to work on all of that.

Wordlessly, she took to the keyboard and danced her fingertips across the keys. In less than a minute, she turned the screen toward him. “You’re in luck. They are Mermaiden’s proprietary formula.”

“Great. Any idea where I can get it?”

“Well I know that it’s super high-end and only a handful of boutiques store it because it took me forever to find a place to buy it – apparently if you have an extremely delicate complexion, you have to fork out a boatload of cash just so that your skin can get its proper nourishment.”

Oliver smirked at her tiny rant and watched as she clicked away again, taking rest in how elegant her swift movements were. Only Felicity could make him think things like that…

“Okay so only four stores in the city stock it.” Snatching at her pad of empty post-its, she collected a pen and wrote down the addresses for him, handing the page to him when she was finished. “There you go.”

He glanced quickly at the addresses. “Have I told you you’re amazing?”

“I do recall that at some point,” she quipped sheepishly. “But it’s always nice to hear.”

“That’s good; you need to hear it because you are.”

She dropped her eyes from his and planted them back on the screen, her hand toying with the strap on her watch. “I’m glad you brought up the cream because I’ve been meaning to pick some more; I’m nearly out of it. I think I’ll go after work tonight.”

“No, don’t,” Oliver blurted immediately.

Her head snapped his way.

He kicked himself for having zero restrain. The idea of Felicity putting herself in the way of The Dollmaker instantly instilled fear within him. Down to the type of skin cream she used, Felicity was the perfect target for the crazed man and knowing that she had a connection to all the other girls he had gone after did very little to ease his mind. “I mean, why don’t I pick you up some when I go get Thea’s? Save you the hassle.”

The blonde visibly relaxed, content with his reason. “You don’t have to do that. Besides, I need a few other things like lipstick and blusher and I doubt you’ll be able to pick out the right ones.”

“I could try.”

“Try being the operative word there,” she giggled softly. “I appreciate the offer Oliver, I do, but I’ve got it covered.”

She was right – of course she was right. And there was no way he’d be able to talk her out of going to buy some without either telling her the truth or coming across as overbearing.

So as he sat there he made a decision: if she was going out at night to get the one thing The Dollmaker was looking for, then Oliver was going to make sure that The Hood would be right there alongside of her.

No doubt about that.

---

The thing about Moira Queen was that to those who didn’t know her personally, she could be a little intimidating. Cold stares, elegant poise, blank, emotionless expressions all wrapped up in Chanel suits and pearls.

An aura of superiority seemed to encompass her wherever she went, and to many she was a woman with impeccable taste and status. She headed fundraisers and led all types of meetings and made herself known as a prominent figure amongst the Starling elite, her last name practically a brand in the city and her face a picture of wealth and power.

To Oliver though, she was just mom. 

His mom that he wished he could spend more time with. As it turned out, holding such a place in the city meant far less time hanging out with her kids and more time on the phone, holding luncheons and burying her nose in date planners and calendars. He understood that she was busy, and a part of him was sort of happy that she wasn’t always around to notice when he slipped up on schoolwork or came home way past curfew after a night out with Tommy, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t miss actually sharing a meal with her every now and again.

He didn’t even get the chance to tell her about Felicity and as they weaved their way over to her, he made sure to remain the picture of ease for his girlfriend’s sake.

His girlfriend…

Yeah, he’d never get tired of that.

It wasn’t that he was worried that Moira wouldn’t like Felicity – it was pretty much impossible to dislike her, it was more to do with how the woman would react to the news. Not telling her he had been in a relationship for three months might not have been his smartest move.

Oliver cleared his throat when they reached her, making sure to roll his thumb over the blonde’s knuckles in a soothing pattern. “Mom?” he said, grabbing the attention of the woman and the two other men she was chatting to. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Moira’s eyes moved from her son over to Felicity in painstaking consideration. Her head automatically tilted to the side when she observed the girl, confusion and surprise etched into forehead. “Of course,” she responded after a beat, turning back quickly to the men with a smile and a nod, who returned the gesture and went on their way. She spun around to face them again, hands clasped together in front of her frame. “What is it, dear?” she posed, keeping her eyes trained on Felicity the whole time.

He could feel the girl shrink beside him. His mom had really perfected that cold, detached gaze.

“I just wanted to introduce you to someone,” he professed, pivoting his head to the side to smile at his date. Somehow looking at her made him feel all dizzy and light and right about then he didn’t care about how his mother took the news or what she had to say; all he cared about was Felicity’s hand clutched to his, her blue orbs seeking solace in his own and how fast his heart beat knowing that she was with him.

Yep he was so far gone there was no question of turning back anymore.

“Yes, and who is your friend here?”

“This is Felicity Smoak.” His smile widened. “My girlfriend.”

Felicity squeaked involuntarily, a timid smile forcing its way through. “Hi, Mrs Queen. It’s really nice to meet you.” Moira narrowed her view, her forehead wrinkled in concentration as though she was trying to solve an equation. “I’ve heard a lot about you – not that we talk about you behind your back or anything it’s just that Oliver mentions you from time to time because, well, you’re his…mom.”

The woman’s brow deepened.

Oliver coughed, flashing her a reassuring grin and tightening his hold on her.

“Girlfriend?” she repeated as if tasting the word on her tongue.

“Yep. We’ve been seeing each other for three months now,” he informed casually.

“Three months?”

It was as if she had to echo his answers so that she could wrap her head around the information. The news ruminated in her head, conveyed through her somewhat peculiarly amused expression and squared shoulders. His mother didn’t have many tells but it was easy to figure out when she was intrigued and she was definitely intrigued by the girl squirming uncomfortably in front of her.

“Yes. We met in school.”

“I tripped over air and managed to cause a scene in the library. Oliver was quick to my rescue,” Felicity filled in fondly.

“Every now and again I’m known to be something of a hero,” he quipped.

“Oh yeah well don’t let it get to your head.”

“Why? I like being your hero,” he smirked indulgently, taking the opportunity to kiss her temple.

The blonde just rolled her eyes, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth again.

A tiny beginning of a smile eked onto Moira’s face, the lines around her eyes crinkling in the slightest sense. “Well, Felicity, it’s lovely to meet you.” She extended her hand out to her and Felicity accepted it tentatively, the handshake brief but warm. “I’m so glad you could make it tonight.”

“Me, too.”

Oliver relaxed, letting his fingers flex on Felicity’s hip and in doing so, noted how all the tension in the blonde’s body dissipated in an instant. Deep down he told himself it was because his mother hadn’t cast her out like some lowly peasant, but he couldn’t suppress the thought that just maybe his touch had that effect on her. “We’re gonna go watch a movie in the study; no offence but this party’s kinda lame,” he announced cheekily, that Queen beam pasted onto his face as his mother eyed him with nothing short of amusement.

“Oliver!” Felicity blurted out in shock, head shaking profusely. “This party isn’t lame, Mrs Queen – it’s great! I mean, everyone’s having a really good time…” she threw her head in all directions, eagerly searching for evidence to back up her claim. Her face fell though when all she was met with was clumps of people looking bored, chit-chatting passively.

Oliver could barely bite back his laugh as he looked at the girl scrambling for something to say, but knowing that the flailing about was only going to cause her anxiety, he jumped in. “What Felicity means is that I’m sure they’re having a great time…on the inside.”

Her head whipped around to him in incredulity and all he could do was gaze at her tenderly. She was adorable when she was flustered. And from the strange look on his mother’s face, he gathered she thought the same way. “Anyway, I think that’s our cue to leave,” he said, starting to pull her away. “We wouldn’t want to cramp your style, mom; this party is just too much for us.”

Despite herself, Felicity giggled at him, lightly shaking her head at his comment.

What Oliver didn’t see though was the way Moira observed them as they half-walked, half-jogged out of the room with a content grin forming on her face.

---

Oliver and Digg had eyes on the store the whole time. The odds of Felicity being taken by The Dollmaker were just a little too high for his liking and as they watched her go into the shop, his agitation and anxiety reached a new level. They still didn’t thoroughly know how the man operated other than he chose his targets for their skin cream and the mere fact that she just had to go out and get some more while he was on the rampage was just the type of luck Oliver didn’t need. He needed her safe, whether he did it as Oliver Queen or The Hood and Digg didn’t argue with him. That surprised him a little, but he figured that the man had grown fond of her since their meeting and understood the need to keep her protected – especially with someone that sinister on the prowl.

“Did you forward the information on to Lance?” he asked while they wanted for her.

Oliver nodded curtly. “I gave him the name of the cream and the store locations. They’re thinking about using a decoy to lure him out.”

“A decoy? That’s a little risky, isn’t it?”

“I agreed to be on site to lend a hand,” he continued, his voice slightly strained.

Diggle nodded, turning his attention back to the task at hand. “You know, Oliver, I understand you want to protect Felicity but don’t you think she’d be safer if she knew who you really were? Then you wouldn’t have to lie to her about…well, anything. And it wouldn’t look suspicious to her when a guy wearing green leather happens to shadow her sometimes?” Oliver shot the man a look. “You’re right; it’ll still look suspicious,” he said with a huffed chuckle.

He set his jaw, annoyed that he brought it up again. “If I tell her who I am…” he exhaled heavily, “…it puts her at more risk. What I do is dangerous. And I can’t put her in danger.”

“Oliver-”

“I can’t do it, Digg.”

“No, Oliver, look.” With a disgruntled expression, he pointed to the store. Felicity had just left and crossed the street, making her way back to her car.

Oliver’s body came alive, every nerve alight as he traced her every move, his eyes never leaving her…until she went around a corner and out of his eyeline.

The shriek that rang out into the open night sky made his bones rattle, every atom in his core shaking as the noise reverberated around his mind. They both swept into action, sprinting toward the noise, breaths coming in panicked spurts.

Fire ripped through his body as they closed in and he saw her struggle against her assailant, pushing and pulling and scraping and screaming to get out of his grip. Using her strength, she caught him by surprise and hit him with her elbow into his throat and he released his hold on her, choking at the blow. But as she ran away from him, she tripped over a last ditch effort he made to grab her and stumbled forward, smacking her head off a crate and immediately going out cold. Teeth barred, Oliver lunged forward and fired an arrow at the man who was staggering away from them, but just at the last second, he moved an inch, the arrow missing him by a millimetre.

Too distracted by the unconscious woman, he rushed over to her, resting an arm on her side, examining the injury.

“Is she okay?” Digg asked breathlessly, catching up to him.

“She hit her head – stay with her!”

Though his heart argued with his head, Oliver took off after the man, his blood boiling to the point where he thought he’d explode.

But the trail ran cold quickly; The Dollmaker nowhere to be seen.

Cursing to himself, he raced back to Felicity and Diggle.

“How is she?” he questioned a little too aggressively. The sight of her limp body lying on the cold, hard ground unsettled him too much for him to remain calm.

John levelled him with an understanding look. “She’ll be okay. Is he gone?”

He flexed his neck in anger. “Yeah. He’s gone.”

“Oliver, I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but if she comes to and you’re wearing that,” he waved his hand at him, signalling to the suit, “you’re gonna have a lot of explaining to do.”

“No,” he cut in, “if she sees you with me, then she’ll have questions but if she just sees The Hood…”

“She’ll just think she has a knight in shining armour,” he finished wryly.

He pulled the hood over his head, the harsh shadows obscuring the majority of his face. “I’ll make sure she gets home safely.”

“Are you sure?” Oliver could tell that Diggle didn’t exactly agree with the plan but being his partner and friend, was accepting it regardless.

“I’m sure.”

As if on cue, Felicity stirred, her head lolling from side to side. One hand fell onto her stomach, the other reaching up to her forehead.

“Go,” Oliver urged to the man, who listening, glanced at him briefly before leaving the scene.  

He was over to her instantly, making sure to keep a respectable distance from her. Enough cracks from his friend about how his lack of disguise was laughable forced him to look down, utilising the shadows from the crates to his advantage.

Felicity’s eyelids fluttered a few times before her blue depths became present, her gaze searching until they landed on him. With a gasp, she began to clamber away from him hastily, fear etched into her features, legs kicking until she pulled herself upright.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he vowed solemnly, his voice distorted. A hand came out to assure her and she spied it warily, her eyes flicking between it and his covered face.

“What do you want? What – what happened?”

His heart tugged at the distress in her tone.

“You were attacked and you hit your head. I’d suggest not moving too much; you might have a concussion.”

She gulped, seemingly remembering her ordeal all of sudden. “You saved me?” she posed sceptically.

“You saved yourself. You got away from him. I just scared him off.”

“Oh…well…thank you,” she said seriously, wrapping her arms around her body.

He licked his lips, hating how alien her voice sounded. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“Well, I am. Thanking you, that is.”

It amazed him how stubborn she was even to a hooded vigilante. If the situation was different he would have even smiled at her.

She began to move away from him and he called out, “I don’t know if you should be driving in your condition.”

“I’m fine,” she assured too quickly. Closing her eyes briefly, she shook her head. “I mean, I have a little headache but I don’t live that far from here so I’m sure I can make it home okay. Plus, I’ve had concussions before – too many if you ask me but that’s a whole different story – and this definitely doesn’t feel like one…”

“You’re just going to leave it to chance?” he asked incredulously, annoyed at her decision.

“If it makes you feel better, you can follow me the whole way there to make sure-”

“I will,” he interjected.

“Wait, what? No – I was joking.”

“Well I’m not,” he answered decisively with a thunderous boom.

Felicity seemed to note straight away that there was no arguing with him. He reckoned the brooding vigilante look was paramount to her backing down that easy.

“Fine.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Fine.”

And so Oliver, moonlighting as The Hood, followed her home as she drove as carefully as he had ever seen her through the streets of Starling, his eyes never leaving her until she went inside and locked the door.

Some things never really change, do they?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Incessant knocking on her front door awoke her from her slumber.

What time it was, what day it was, she had no idea. And to be honest? She didn’t care. The only thing she did know was that her head felt as though it had been chucked into a tumble dryer while it was running. Not that she knew what exactly that felt like…but she assumed it was extremely close to the discomfort she was being subjected to at that point.

Oh that, and apparently someone was at her door. And was clearly very impatient.

Unfortunately her head refused to cooperate with her brain’s orders, selfishly at a disconnect to the rest of her body. Her hands planted on her pillows, arms tensed for the movement, Felicity pushed down so that her body elevated and prayed that her head followed suit. It did; but barely. If she didn’t know any better she would have assumed her skull was filled to the brim with really pointy, really heavy rocks.

Yeah…definitely really jagged, pointy rocks.

Somehow she managed to get to her feet – although her legs were still asleep so she wasn’t really standing so much as swaying - and started for the door, making sure to grab her glasses on her locker on the way. The knocking hadn’t ceased in the slightest; in fact, it had become more aggressive, any sense of pattern dissolving into thunderous thumps on the wood and a part of her briefly wondered if knuckle dents would be left on the door in the aftermath. That wouldn’t be ideal.

Her eyes squinted as the sunlight shot through the windows on either side of the entrance, blinding her and causing a swirl of blotchy colours in her vision. Smacking her cheeks lightly to wake herself up a little more, she called out to her visitor, hoping that at the very least they’d stop the commotion.

Thankfully they did. That was a good start.

The silence was a welcome reprieve, but faint hums of the noise lingered in the air. When she finally opened the door, she came face-to-face with someone she probably should have expected and yet she still didn’t expect at the same time.

Oliver looked…worried, maybe? No, definitely worried. He had that line dragging down in between his eyebrows – a classic tell. His thumb rubbed against his fingers, a signal that he was agitated, but she could practically feel the relief roll off him as she regarded him curiously.

“Oliver?” she asked, her voice sounding like she was talking underwater. Not that people could talk underwater… “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t at work today,” he stated matter-of-factly as if he had to fill her in on something she didn’t know.

“I know that.”

His eyes were so affectionate, so concerned, that she was pretty sure she stopped breathing for a number of seconds. Oliver’s eyes had always been his weak point; if he was hurt or upset, the edges would harden as though a wall had been set in place; but on the other hand, when he truly had his guard down, those beautiful moments of honesty and heart that pierced through the cloud of expectation and warmed her soul, they were so incredibly soft. Clear oceans of love. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

She could have turned him away – said she was fine, just needed a day of rest, and sent him on his way. But she couldn’t. Truth be told, she didn’t realize just how much she wanted to be around him until he showed up at her door, visibly worried about her wellbeing. All those times she had told herself she was done with Oliver Queen were immediately cast aside, her heart overruling everything else. “Do you want to come in?”

His smile sent shivers down her spine. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Pulling the door wide, she gestured for him to enter, wincing a little when she moved her head sharply. Oliver noticed – he never missed anything – but didn’t say a word as he made his way through her house to the kitchen. It was when she reached the kitchen and felt a slight chill that she realized what she was wearing: not very much of anything really. A tank top that she really should have thrown out a long time ago that had been decorated with one too many stains from hair dye and a pair of swimming shorts that were definitely not flattering. Not that she wanted to look flattering for Oliver or anything; no, she’d want to look flattering for anyone who knocked at her door…

Sometimes she wished she could shut herself up.

Standing there in his charcoal business suit, shifting from one foot to the other, Oliver looked thoroughly out of place in her room of bright colours and knick-knacks. It was almost as if he was too big for the room, his frame intimidating and unsure. “Do you want a coffee or anything? I haven’t had time to make some yet - and sometimes I make it too strong which leads to me simultaneously choking and buzzing for a while afterwards…but when I do actually get around to making it, do you want some?” She pulled at her top self-consciously at his amused gaze. “Sorry, it’s…early and you know me and babbling…”

“Felicity it’s after noon,” he said, supressing a grin.

Her eyes bulged. “It’s after noon?! I have literally lost all sense of time.” She buried her face in her hands, feeling her headache come back in a strong wave.

This time, Oliver refused to stay quiet. “Felicity, why didn’t you come into work today?” He asked the question the way a teacher would when fishing for an answer they already knew. “Are you okay?”

“How did you know I wasn’t in work today?” she inquired instead, blinking heavily.

His back straightened. “I went down to the IT department to see if you wanted to grab lunch,” he murmured smoothly, as though he had spent hours practicing beforehand. And knowing Oliver, he probably did because the idea of them just grabbing lunch for the hell of it was not normal. In fact, it was totally and completely abnormal. “When I saw you weren’t there I went to the head of the department and they said you just never showed up and I got…” he took a breath, “worried.”

“So you left work in the middle of the day just to check up on me?” The words left her mouth in a roll of uncertainty.

“I needed to make sure that you were alright.” 

Felicity liked to believe that she knew Oliver Queen like she knew her own name but this new Oliver, this hardened man whose whole body always seemed to be vibrating with nervy energy, was harder to read. Simmering under the surface of his steely façade lay stormy emotions, bubbling and every once and a while, rising to the break for a breath of a second. He tried to hide everything that weighed him down deep inside, letting whatever demons he had have full control over him. She never pretended to know what happened to him in those five years and though she did think of it at times, she understood that she may never truly grasp the horrors of that period of his life. It was obvious it had inherently changed him. No longer was he that teenage boy who oozed of charm and charisma (except, of course, when he first met her); he was a haunted man.

And in all honesty, Felicity would be lying if she said that her heart didn’t ache for him whenever she saw him. She could tell herself a million times that her feelings for Oliver were hazy; a distant, faint brush of memory that only dimmed with time – but then she’d really be lying. Seeing him after all the years and noting the changes in him only served to stir her affection for him more.

Oh hell, she still loved him.

That frightened her though. Purely because he shattered her heart and then subsequently became an absolute jerk and died…even though he didn’t actually die.

Something like that was not easy to get over. Even the mere thought of getting over it seemed impossible. The betrayal, the pain, the throb of her heart still resonated through her, afresh every time she looked at him. Her throat still cried out for relief from the dull ache that resided there, as if she was stuck in a perpetual state of almost-sobbing. The hours she spent resenting him, hating him, cursing the world and everything else she could think of, tumbled through her mind whenever she heard his name. When they finished, when she left and everything she had ever known had somehow shifted into uncharted territory where she had never felt so lost before, Felicity never thought she’d ever recover. She felt…broken. Damaged beyond repair. Everyone told her that she’d move on, that she was only eighteen so there was plenty of fish in the sea and all that kind of stuff that was completely useless, and that whatever she and Oliver had was just puppy love. That it wasn’t real. And she told herself that all the time because tricking herself into believing it was easier than accepting it wasn’t true. She knew that she loved him. Really loved him. And she knew that she hated him. And she knew that her heart was broken. And she knew that it would take more than a few weeks to get over him – because no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many dates she went on, no matter how many nice guys came her way, her heart belonged to the one who destroyed it. 

It was a tragic story, fit for a trashy romance novel.

So keeping him at arm’s length despite his duplicitous visits was the only viable option to her – and Felicity thought she was doing a fairly good job of it so far. Cold yet approachable was what she was aiming for.

But then he went and said something like that…

“Why?” she asked with narrowed eyes. “Why does it matter to you if I don’t show up to work?”

“Because I care about you, Felicity. You know that,” he whispered. “You’ve always known that.”

Wrapping her arms around her middle, she closed her eyes, hoping the simple action would quell the throb in her head. “I’m okay. I just…I just needed a day off. I had a rough night.”

His jaw twitched, eyes contracting a millimetre. That also was something different about the man in front of her; every move, every gesture, began as a fidget before elongating into a movement, as though his brain needed an extra beat to remember how to perform the action. The rigidity with which he held himself was alone something else that she longed to fix for him. “Then why do you make that face whenever you move your head?”

“What face?” She tilted her head to the side and immediately regretted it, sucking air in through her teeth at the dart of pain.

“That one,” he said pointedly.

Damn. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing. Felicity, what happened last night?”

“What makes you think something happened to me last night?”

“You’ve obviously hurt your head and you’re standing away from me with your arms across you like you’re trying to protect yourself.” His voice dropped, concern pouring out. “Please tell me what happened.” He started for her but then pulled up, deciding against it. The confliction was evident in his stance.

She didn’t have to tell him – of course she didn’t – but this was Oliver and lord knows that when it came to him, Felicity rarely kept things to herself. Some things never change. What an oddly comforting thought. “If you must know,” she began, biting her lip, fingers picking at a loose thread on her tank, “I was…I was attacked last night.” Oliver’s nostrils flared, eyes wild with quiet fury. He didn’t speak, didn’t utter a sound. Just stood there, glued to the spot, teeth clenched. She continued, averting her gaze from him, “I don’t know who it was but he just…grabbed me and I fo-fought him and got free I guess. I remember trying to run away and tripping over something?” She paused, racking her brain for information. “The next thing I know I’m looking up…at the vigilante.” Calling him that sounded wrong even to her. He didn’t seem anything like what she had heard; ruthless, intimidating, murderous – none of those things shone through their, admittedly, brief meeting.

Oliver tensed his shoulders, an odd expression on his face. “You came face-to-face with The Hood?”

“Yeah…I did,” she gulped. “Though he should really change his name…The Hood sounds, I don’t know, a little too sinister. Something like The Arrow would work so much better…” she let the sentence die as she got lost in her thoughts. Now that she actually looked back on it, nothing about the vigilante struck her as dangerous. In fact, there was something so familiar about him. Maybe that was why she felt so safe around him.

“Felicity, the guy’s a reckless killer! You shouldn’t be around him. He could…he could hurt you. Or worse,” he choked out.

“But he didn’t,” she proclaimed defiantly, raising her chin. “He stayed with me until I woke up and followed me home to make sure I got there safely. He’s not like what everyone says.”

The man rocked on his heels, the vein in his neck pulsing. “He puts arrows in people, Felicity. He takes justice into his own hands. A guy like that can’t be trusted.”

“Well I think he can be. I’ve heard what people say about him, but it seems to me whoever he is, he’s willing to sacrifice an awful lot to help the people of this city; kind of makes him a hero, doesn’t it?”

Oliver’s mouth dropped open at her honest declaration, visibly taken aback by the assurance in her tone. Honestly, she surprised herself at the certainty of her words. “I just think it’d be better if you stayed away from him. I don’t…want you to get hurt. Okay?”

The blonde’s stare turned stern, something clicking with her in an irking kind of way. “You don’t own me, Oliver. I can talk to whomever I please.”

“I need you to be safe,” he fired back but a lulling softness took over any chagrin by the end. Those words, the statement, shouldn’t have had any effect on her – none whatsoever really. But they did. Damn it, they did. For a second she could almost imagine slipping back into what they were, having arguments and making up and doing everything, facing everything together.

And then the moment passed and a dense reality poured over her, her head back to making life very difficult. Reaching out, she curled her fingers over the top of a chair tucked under her dining table and fixed her eyes on the grain patterns on the table itself, following the lines that seemingly led to nowhere. “Yeah well my safety is none of your concern anymore.” It came out stronger than she anticipated and the deep exhale that he expelled indicated that she had hit a nerve. She bit her lip, slightly fearing what he was going to say next.  

“Why can’t we just talk without you doing that?”

Her head slowly rotated in his direction, brow furrowed. “Doing what?”

“Turning it back to what happened between us,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping as he raked a hand through his curt hair. The unwanted tears enhanced his ocean eyes, his face turning a shade of red that shook her core. “When are we ever going to talk about it? Because, Felicity, I’ve been trying to find the right way to tell you that I want to be a part of your life since the moment I saw you again. I don’t feel like I deserve it, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t try to earn that place.” Oliver moved closer to her but still left a respectable space between them. He looked to be on the end of his tether, his restraint groaning as if ready to burst at the seams. A tortured soul seeking reprieve. “I don’t want to keep skirting around the main problem here; I want you in my life. Sometimes that sounds like the simplest of things, and other times I can’t think of anything more difficult. Why can’t we just work through it?”

The spark of tears was too hard to ignore, her depths filling up rapidly, her breath harsh and regulated. Oh crying was so not what she wanted. In fact, it was the last thing she needed. What she needed was a clear head – and maybe an aspirin. A forced smile broke through as she stood fully upright in front of him, his expression open and terrified. “Because it still hurts, Oliver,” she whispered, swiping a finger across her cheeks to get rid of any stray tears. “And it hasn’t ever really stopped hurting. I’m not an idiot; I know that there are things we have to talk about. But I just can’t do it right now.”

At his somewhat defeated reaction, she instinctively rested her hand on his chest, only then noticing how close they had gotten. It amazed her how solid his torso was under her touch, tension and stress and years’ worth of wear all compacted into one place. The ever racing beat of his heart thrummed under her fingertips, eliciting the same response in her. “My head hurts…” she breathed, never looking at his face, too focused on the feel of his heartbeat, “…so maybe you should go.”

Seconds, minutes, hours could have passed with just the two of them bathing in the quiet with nothing but the sound of them breathing to fill the air. Through the windows over her sink, sunlight spilled through brightly as if freeing itself from the fortress of the clouds just for them. Not usually a believer in signs and signals from the universe, even Felicity felt a feather of change in the air.

Eventually, Oliver stepped back out of her touch and her hand grasped at the air for a little longer before she brought it back to lie at the base of her neck. With innate curiosity, she watched as the man stalked over to the cabinet next to her fridge and rifled through the various weird unconnected items that lived in there. Retrieving a white box that Felicity knew straight away to be aspirin, he then searched through three more cupboards before seemingly finding what he was looking for – a glass – and filled it halfway with water. He placed the two objects on the table.

“Take two of these and take it easy for the rest of the day,” he instructed.

Felicity took two pills, tossing them into her mouth with a mighty gulp of water, squeezing her eyes shut and scrunching her body as she swallowed them. “How did you know where I keep medicine?”

He smiled fondly. “You used to have a medicine cabinet in the exact same place in your old house. I went with my gut.”

“Old habits,” she crooned with a laugh. “Thank you, by the way.” She lifted the box in the air and swirled it around randomly before chucking it back onto the table.

Oliver appraised her with nothing short of tender affection. His gaze was so soft and gentle that Felicity’s breath hitched, feeling the fluttery sensation travel through her body, even so far as stretching out to the extremities of her limbs. Though he was brasher than her Oliver, when he looked at her like that…well, it still made her feel dizzy.

Although that could have been the headache too…

“Listen,” he said, clearing his throat and turning his head away from her, “Thea’s birthday is in a few weeks and we got word that my mom’s, uh, trial is gonna be around the same time - so that kind of put a damper on the festivities, but I wanted her to celebrate so we’re sort of throwing a party this weekend.” His lips curled up timidly, uncertainly. “It’d be great if you could come. Thea would really love to see you.”

Felicity grinned back at him, the expectation in his tone impossible to deny. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

And that was the truth; whatever was going on between her and Oliver, it didn’t make a difference to the way she felt about Thea. That girl was the closest she had to a sibling, and though it had been years since she had seen or spoke to her, there was no denying the fact that she loved her. And missed her.

“Great,” he breathed, elated at how quick she agreed.

“Great,” she repeated.

The electricity in the air when their blues met yet again was tangible, crackling and popping and flowing between them. Oliver sensed it too, his expression contemplative, and he edged closer to her, his body seemingly moving of its own accord, framing her face with both of his hands. Though his hands were rough with years of unspoken memories and grief, his touch was so sweetly delicate that she couldn’t help but relax into it, closing her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them again, she blinked heavily and watched him intensely as he leaned painfully ever close, his lips coming to brush gently against her forehead. The slight tingly sensation shot fire through her and she stopped breathing. Well, at least she thought she did. She was way too entranced in the moment to even remember her own name.

When he let go, she felt the loss immediately, feeling cold all of a sudden.

His eyes turned disturbed, as though he was angry with himself and Felicity wished she could find something, anything, to vanquish the darkness in them, but she came up with nothing, her own heart engaged in a weird battle with her brain.

The problem was that kiss, no matter how fleeting or how light it was, implied something far greater than an expression of affection. With its touch, three words echoed around the space, filling the voids, spreading and reaching far and wide to the darkest of spots and forgotten places.

I love you.

“I better go.” The words were just a wisp in the wind, a finality. “Just…make sure to rest up, okay? And try not to run with hooded vigilantes – at least until you’re feeling better,” he tagged on with a single laugh.

She nodded. “I promise to try.”

He inhaled deeply, his shoulders dropping dramatically as he let out the breath quickly. “Good.”

He started to walk past her, intent on leaving but Felicity called out to him, “Oliver?” Stopping mid-step, he twisted around to face her, her hands still gripped to the chair like it was the only thing keeping her steady, his lips rolled in as he appraised her with curiosity. “Thank you for coming to check up on me.”

“Always.”

A six letter word that held such promise and by association, such potential to destroy.

But despite all that, the lingering burn of where his lips left their mark distracted her from pretty much anything else, making it fairly obvious to her where her heart lay.

I still love you too.  

---

“Come on, ‘Licity,” Tommy pleaded over the phone, using that pouty voice that he loved to use on any and every girl he could. Even if that girl was the girlfriend of his best friend.

Felicity rolled her eyes, falling back onto her bed with a soft thud, her blonde hair fanning out behind her. Tommy could be so persistent when he wanted to be. “I’m not going; Oliver knows that. We’re gonna celebrate tomorrow.”

“But you can’t miss his birthday party!” he yelled over the clamour of chat she could hear in the background. “I’m pretty sure that’s in the girlfriend rulebook!”

“Tommy-”

“Pleeeeeeaaaassseeee Smoak,” he whined, drawing a chuckle out of her. Ever the dramatic, the Merlyn boy had the ability to turn the most mundane situations into something utterly enthralling which, most times, was oddly endearing. The minute she met him, Felicity could see why he and Oliver were best friends; they balanced each other out. Though both overly oozing with confidence most of the time, whenever one was feeling low, the other was there straight away with the right thing to say. They were more like brothers than anything else. She was just happy that she seemingly had passed the girlfriend test. “He’s not even having that good of a time – and it doesn’t look good when the birthday boy is bored at his own party.”

“I’m pretty sure I recall him telling you that he didn’t want a party.”

“But what kind of best friend would I be if I let his 17^th birthday go by without throwing some kind of wild, out-of-control bash? I mean, after all, you only turn 17 once, am I right?” He paused to yell something incomprehensible into the roar, and then lowered his voice, “Look, I know you don’t like these kinds of things but you should come. Besides from it being a rocking party – and I would know because every party I’ve thrown goes down in Starling’s history books – I think it’d make his night better.”

Ah, the sincere voice. He used that from time to time.

Turning her head to the side she checked the time on her alarm clock. 21:23. Maybe she’d go for an hour…

The blonde sighed heavily and before she could even respond, Tommy whooped, “Sweet so I’ll see you soon then!”

“Wait, no I don’t know-”

“You’ll have an awesome time, Smoak, you’ll see!”

And then the phone went dead.

For a few seconds Felicity stared at the blank screen on her phone, half-annoyed at how little of a fight she gave and half-impressed at how smoothly the boy handled the call. Dropping the device onto the bed, she averted her gaze towards the ceiling wondering how she somehow became embroiled in all the extra trappings of being Oliver Queen’s girlfriend – not that she was complaining though. No way; she couldn’t think of a time when she’d been so happy. Even thinking about him made her smile…and blush…

When she was in class, she was thinking about him. When she was at home, she was thinking about him. When she wasn’t with him, she wanted to be with him. It was crazy and frightening and wonderful and exciting all at the same time and she didn’t really know how to deal with it. It was so new and yet so right; so familiar but so unnerving. Thrilling.

Bottom line: that boy had the strongest hold on her heart. And she didn’t really know what to do about it; feeling this way, the effect he had on her? She never wanted it to stop – she couldn’t see it ever stopping. If anything, the more time she spent with him, the more she was falling. Maybe she was falling too fast, who knew, but honestly? Felicity didn’t care. Nine months of dating and she could safely say, without missing a beat, that she was in love with Oliver Queen – she had been since the moment he attempted (pretty badly) to ask her out on a date.

The only question that remained was if he felt the same way.

And she was terrified of finding out.

A known social butterfly – was there a masculine equivalent to butterfly? – Oliver, and usually by extension and with a good deal of persuasion Felicity, showed his face at as many social events as possible – which was a lot because apparently Greenwood Academy loved nothing more than throwing a random dance every other week for no other reason than they could (which in turn was a nightmare when it came to picking out outfits), but he had been adamant about not wanting to make deal about his birthday. Yet Tommy, always thinking ahead, planned the soiree at the Queen mansion making it impossible for him to escape the festivities. It was pretty ingenious to be fair.  Credit where credit was due.

Pushing herself up into an upright position, Felicity scanned her room, bottom lip worried between her teeth as she pondered over what to wear. With a huff, she dragged herself off the bed and headed for the wardrobe, vowing to make the most of the situation.

---

The sound of teenage boozy delirium could have been heard a mile away. Once Felicity pulled up to the manor, she took in her surroundings. Against the eerily clouded night sky and smudgy moonlight, Oliver’s home was even more intimidating – if that was possible. It was all harsh edges and vast windows and turrets that stuck out on top like judging figures. Yellow light from indoors slopped out into the immense garden, silhouettes of guests bouncing around to the booming music that made the door rattle invading her eyeline.

With a deep breath, Felicity strode into the household with an inherent confidence that she wouldn’t have had a few months previous. Seriously, up until a little while ago, stepping over that threshold would have brought about a bout a swell of anxiety within her including an erratic heartbeat and irregular breathing – mainly due to the regal air of Mrs Queen and her ability to smite a person with a flick of a glance. That woman was impressive.

But now, since she had been there way more than she possibly ever thought, the structure didn’t instill that kind of fear in her anymore. A welcome change if you asked her.

Sidestepping a bunch of guys who were egging on a friend of theirs to chug his drink, she weaved through the throng, smiling and waving at classmates and acquaintances as she passed by. People she had never seen before crowded the corners, relaxed and casual as if being in the company of Oliver Queen was a common occurrence; club music with extreme emphasis on bass hit her at every angle, covering up its source; empty cups and bottles dotted the hallway toward the kitchen like little kids patiently waiting to be collected after school and Felicity momentarily wondered how annoyed Raisa was going to be when she saw the mess the following morning. Yet all that aside, everyone seemed to be having a good time: fits of laughter spiralled up into the air, cloaking over the other sounds, something so weirdly innocent about the whole thing.

While she continued on in her search for Oliver, or even Tommy, Felicity passed by a group of girls huddled together beside one of the mansion’s plentiful bathrooms (because where else would they be? Sometimes people really confused her). Vague recognition of a few of them registered in the back of her mind but she thought nothing much of it until one of them, a raven-haired, red-lipped doll grabbed her attention.

“It’s Felicity, right?” Her tone was too sweet, too sickly, too fake.

Nonetheless, the blonde halted and faced her. “Yeah, it is,” she replied easily.

“You go out with Oliver, right?”

Something about the way the question was worded and the narrowing piercing glare the girl emitted in her direction made her uncomfortable. For whatever reason, she crossed her arms across her chest, her gaze springing from thing to thing for a beat. “Yep.”

Raven-hair gave pointed looks to her followers who then giggled like there was no tomorrow, their shrill sounds grating to the ear. Then, she took a purposeful step closer, the alcohol steaming from her. “You guys look really cute together.”

It wasn’t remotely a compliment – that much was clear. “Thanks,” she said anyway.

She leaned in closer to her, face mere centimetres away. “But, I hate to break it to you, blondie-” God she already hated this girl, “-but a guy like Oliver never stays comfortable for long, if you know what I mean.” Eyebrow raised knowingly, lips ticked mischievously. “Always looking for something new. So I’d enjoy it while you can.”

Felicity stood her ground. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

Her laugh was mocking. “Oh no, just the truth. You know, girl to girl.”

Despite it being a very obvious ploy to get under her skin, bitchy devious teenage girls always had a way of hitting a nerve with Felicity. Being sixteen was hard enough without having to deal with girls who deliberately go out of their way to make you feel bad. But refusing to appear weak, she raised her chin, kept her voice even and said, “Well I can safely say that Oliver would never be interested in a girl like you.”

“Oh not me, Lissy.” Had she mentioned how much she hated her? Because she really did. “I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

“What are you talking about?”

Once again the zombies behind raven-hair broke out into a raucous chortle as though they were being telepathically told what to do and when to do it. “I’m talking about Laurel Lance and how she and Oliver are meant to be together,” she iterated slowly as if it was something totally obvious. Would it really be so bad if she just…slapped her? Maybe. “Oliver has been practically in love with her since they were kids. And it’s basic knowledge that she’s in love with him. Everyone can see that. I just don’t want to see you get your heart broken, Lissy. Because,” she lowered her voice to a whisper that only she could hear amongst the mayhem, “let’s face it; you’re no match for Laurel.”

Now that felt like a slap to her face.

In fact, the ice in her tone, the matter-of-fact deliverance, hit her hard in the chest, causing her physically jolt away from her.

Any response she was going to spit back died on her tongue as though the words forget how they sounded and before she knew it, she was rushing away from them, half-jogging and stumbling into people as she raced on, ignoring any comments yelled in her direction and desperately trying to block out the wicked laughing coming from whence she came. God she hated parties and she hated girls who put others down so that they could feel superior and she hated how affected she was by the whole thing.

If she could vacuum all of the moisture out of her eyes she would.

Okay so maybe not vacuum because that alone sounds horribly violent, but if there was a way to stop herself from tearing up she’d gladly take it.

God she was such a girl sometimes.

“Smoaky!”

Only one person in the whole world called her that.

She steadied herself, praying her tears would keep at bay, and twirled around to where the voice came from, plastering on her biggest smile when she saw Tommy amble over to her, clapping a few guys on the back along the way. At seventeen, Tommy Merlyn definitely had a bright future ahead of him once that future meant dealing with people. Maybe he could open a nightclub or something; he’d be good at that.

“You came!” he exclaimed, his arms thrown wide for good effect.

“I did,” she answered simply, trying to feed off his enthusiasm.

He grinned proudly, motioning all around him. “Pretty sweet party, right? Can I throw them or what?”

She nodded profusely. “Oh yeah, party of the year.”

All of a sudden, his elated expression turned quizzical, a frownline etching itself between his eyebrows. “Hey are you okay?”

Dammit. A loose tear trailed down her cheek and she swiped at it hastily. “Who me? Yeah, I’m fine. Never better. It’s just my contacts…they’re always causing problems,” she chuckled thickly, gesturing to her eyes. “Uh, do you know where Oliver is?”

He didn’t buy her excuse and she didn’t expect him to, but he smiled softly in encouragement nevertheless. “Last time I saw him he was out by the pool. Some of the guys were having a cannonball competition – he was the judge. Of course.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” she breathed, smiling up at him. Her hand on his forearm, she caught his full attention. “And by the way, this party really is great.”

He beamed back, his joviality back in full swing. “I told you, ‘Licity! If there’s one thing I know, it’s having a good time!”

And then, slinking back into host mode like it was a comfy sweater, he winked at her and decidedly threw himself back into the chaos with no abandon. The ease he exuded as he mingled to and fro with them all was something to be admired; the charm that guy wielded could have been bottled and sold for a generous price.

Felicity, lightening a little, made her way through the kitchen and out the back door, the chill of the night air striking her immediately. She knew she should have brought a sweater but that would have thrown another facet into picking out an outfit that she just wasn’t in the mood for. Best to keep things as simple as possible.

Even if that meant freezing.

She found him poolside, standing off to the side with a cup, eyes fixed in the distance. Contrary to what Tommy had said, he looked on with disdain at the guys were who flinging themselves into the water in spectacular fashion, each dive getting more and more extravagant and noisy as though they’d somehow outdo one another by the simple act of yelling the loudest.

She sidled up alongside him, her shoulder gently brushing against his. He was oblivious to her presence, lost in whatever world he had entered. He did that from time to time; usually after he had a fight with his dad over his future, when things got too much, and he curled inward, plunging himself into his deepest thoughts that he rarely voiced even to her. Pressure sat atop his shoulders, a permanent fixture in his life, and Felicity sometimes wished she could say or do something that would ease it, make him feel better, but she never knew what she could do. And feeling helpless was not something she enjoyed.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice still oddly thick after her tears.

Oliver jerked sideways, a beam on full display the moment he registered her. Her heart skipped a beat. You’d think she would have been used to it – but she wasn’t. “Hey! What are you doing here?” He kissed her straight away leaving no room for her reply. The kiss was so sweet that she thought her knees would give way, his effect on her ridiculous at times.

“It’s your birthday party,” she replied with a tight smile, trying so hard to cover up her lower tone. Her heart was heavy after raven-hair pretty much obliterated it and although seeing the way he reacted the moment he saw her made her feel a million times better, she still harboured a good deal of restlessness about the whole thing.

Ugh, she hated the way her mind charged to thoughts she would never usually entertain.

Oliver, always perceptive of her, seemingly noted that something was off but he played coy, lacing his fingers through hers. “I thought you didn’t want to come though?” he posed teasingly. “That you’re too cool for these types of things?”

That drew a chuckle from her. “I thought I better make an exception this time.”

His face softened, the muscles relaxing. “Well I’m glad you did.”

“Really?”

She didn’t know why she said it; it just slipped out like a lot of her other thoughts did, but never had she thought it’d sound so accusatory. So unlike her. Immediate regret greeted her as she closed her eyes at her own stupidity, but when she opened them again expecting to see a much more defiant expression on her boyfriend’s face, she was instead met with sheer bewilderment. In fact, he had that crinkly brow, hooded lid thing going on that made him look like a confused puppy.

“Of course I am; why wouldn’t I be?”

Felicity shook her head, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a strangled elephant than a sincere squeak. “I didn’t mean it that way,” she raced to say. “You know how my mouth moves before I think…” The rest of the sentence died as she watched his eyes darken, no part of him buying her routine.

Placing his cup on the decking, he brought his now free hand up to her face, his thumb padding underneath her eye. “You been crying,” he muttered, his whole hand now resting against her cheek. The heat of his touch caused her to lean into it, needing to feel the assurance.

“It’s nothing,” she shrugged off, looking at him but not looking, looking.

“It’s not nothing. What’s wrong?”

“Oliver it’s a party so let’s just have a good time, okay?”

He sighed. “Felicity, come on, you can tell me anything.” He ducked his head so that she’d have to meet his stare and smiled once blue hit blue. “I promise to agree in all the right places and frown in all the bad ones?” he jested, letting his thumb dance lithely across her cheekbone.

Even small gestures like that made her pulse accelerate and Felicity wondered whether he got the same thrill when she touched him.

She licked her lips, feeling a little embarrassed. “I’m just being stupid…” An abrupt cry of elation snatched at her attention and she turned to see the group of guys guffawing at someone who had managed to lose their shorts while attempting what must have been the world’s most elaborate dive. “A girl inside – who I have never met before by the way, how many people do you and Tommy even know? Every teenager in Starling? ‘Cause there’s a hell of a lot of people in there…but I suppose you are a billionaire so… – sorry…not the point.” The boy’s lips quirked but he said nothing, letting her carry on. “Anyway, yeah she just said something to me and I guess I got upset. That’s it. See? No big deal.”

“If what she said made you cry then it’s definitely a big deal,” he asserted quietly, removing his hand so he could tip her face back in his direction. “What did she say?”

She really didn’t want to tell him. Like, at all. It’d just make her feel worse.

But his eyes were just so pleading and concerned and looking into them felt like she was being covered by the fluffiest blanket – safe, warm, protected; she had to tell him.

Looking into Oliver’s eyes felt like coming home. A weird declaration that in theory made no sense but to her it did. There was no need to analyse, or question, or figure out; it just was. She didn’t care if no else understood because as long as she did that was all that mattered.

“She said stuff…about you and Laurel.” She urged herself to keep calm but she was intensely aware of every little detail that shifted in his expression. Thank God his hand remained unmoved because it was anchoring her to him, giving her focus.

“What kind of stuff?” It was a question but his tone bode no room for lying.

She gulped. Now or never. “Uh…about how you’ve been in love with her since forever and that eventually you guys are gonna end up together.” She honestly didn’t think his orbs could widen so much. She took it as a sign to continue, “And then she may, possibly, perhaps, had said something along the lines of me never standing a chance when compared with her and that you’ll get bored with me and just general mean things that obviously impacted me way more than they should of. Hence the tears.” A pitying laugh tripped over her lips, her cheeks reddening at her fumbling for coherency.

It took him a beat longer to fully comprehend exactly what she was saying because her once-off chuckle turned into a nervy heave which only further fuelled her humiliation. Could they just go back and time and forget that she was a person who had a mountain of insecurities? That’d be nice.

“Felicity,” he whispered, face so close to hers now that she could feel his spurts of breath.  “That girl? She has no idea what she’s talking about. She doesn’t know us.”

“But Laurel,” she interjected immediately, the compulsion for information too strong to ignore. “When I first moved here I heard things about you and her. It was like people saw you as a couple even though you weren’t one – why? Did you guys go out? Do you have feelings for her?”

Much to his credit, Oliver didn’t flinch at her questions. His hand stayed glued to her face, the other one still tangled with hers. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Felicity.” Great. Not really the start she wanted to hear. “I had a crush on Laurel for years. Schoolboy kind of thing – and before you say anything, yes, I know that technically I’m still a schoolboy,” he proclaimed with amusement. “But I think it was more the idea of her. I had my chance with her at a dance once but whatever happened…I don’t know, I realized that while she was pretty and we had a good time, there wasn’t anything really there, you know? So I never went after her again. As far as I was concerned, Laurel wasn’t the girl for me then.”

The blonde drank in his words like they were her lifeline, deciphering them and listening for interesting pauses and cadences that would somehow give her the whole picture but the only thing she got from it all was that he meant he everything he said.

“And then I met you,” he declared assuredly, blues brightening, the corners of his mouth stretching out to a heartfelt smile. Whatever iron grip that held her heart hostage loosened to the point where she felt lighter. “And I figured out pretty quickly why it didn’t work out with Laurel. She wasn’t you.”

“Oliver-”

“No, wait; let me say this,” he whispered, his voice shaky suddenly. “I don’t care what people think about me and I definitely don’t care about what that girl had to say. I only care about what you think. And I need you to know that I when it comes to you, there’s no choice to make. All I want is you, Felicity. Just you. Always you. You and I are meant to be – I believe that. I’m not gonna pretend that it doesn’t frighten me because honestly, I just turned seventeen and I never thought I’d feel this way about a girl. Actually, I never thought I’d ever feel this way. But I do. And I don’t want to hide it and I don’t want you to think that I could ever pick someone else over you. Because you’re it, Felicity. I don’t care if that makes no sense to anyone else because it makes sense to me. You’re it.” He pulled her face toward him and tenderly placed a kiss on her forehead, letting his lips linger there for what could have been forever. The act was so simple yet so intimate at the same time, speaking far louder than any other kiss they had shared. “I love you, Felicity,” he breathed into her hair, his nose skimming hers before he ducked down to slant his lips over hers, drinking her in.

When they broke apart, she covered his hand with hers, never feeling so alive, so aware than in that moment. Never had she been so sure of anything ever. She could have been crying again but she didn’t care. Not anymore.

“I love you, too,” she prayed into the air between them and watched as he tilted his head ever so slightly in what only looked to be wonder. As though he couldn’t quite believe that she had spoken.

“Really?”

She nodded, her turn to grin like a fool. “Really.”

He then kissed her again but this time it was filled with passion and intensity, every emotion pouring out of one and into the other.

This time it was filled with whispered truths, three words that somehow had the power to change everything they had ever known.

This time it was filled with love.

---

Loud, cranking music welcomed Felicity as she drove up the winding entrance of a place she once believed she’d never set foot in again. It seemed a lifetime since she had been back at Queen Manor, the sombre remnants of the last time she was there still very fresh in her mind as her Mini rolled over the crunchy gravel, the sound unnerving. Oliver’s funeral had been every bit as excruciating as she had expected; echoes of him and their relationship wailed at her from all angles, puncturing through her thinly veiled grief and sucking any kind of control she had over her emotions right out of her. She remembered that even the sun itself tucked behind the security of the clouds that day as though it couldn’t bear to show its face over such a grave event.

As she pulled the vehicle to a stop, she allowed herself the chance to look up at the domineering structure, feeling a mixture of things as memory after memory swept over her all at once. Both good and bad. A melancholy, nostalgic bubbling in the pit of her stomach made itself known, but Felicity pushed it aside as she clambered out of the car.

Standing tall and peering up at the house that was juddering with a youthful vibrancy, Felicity took courage in her heart and in her judgement, and with a deep breath, strut up the steps with as much confidence as she could garner.

Here goes nothing, she thought to herself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Everywhere he looked there were teenagers. Like, literally everywhere. He couldn’t even go to any one of the restrooms because there was a queue the length of the hallways. Oliver ran a club, he was used to parties, but it was definitely disconcerting to be the only person over the legal drinking age in his house. If anything, it made him feel old.

For what felt like the fiftieth time since 7 o’clock rolled around, he questioned his whole reasoning when he found himself awkwardly ambling around the kids, picking up things and moving them to other places in the mansion just so that it looked like he was busy, noting how he probably looked like a disgruntled parent watching and waiting for something to happen so he could pounce.

But seeing Thea so relaxed, so light-hearted, in what felt like forever made it all worthwhile. She was smiling - really smiling, gossiping and laughing and singing along to the music and just being a teenage girl hanging out with her friends. For the night she was a girl celebrating a birthday; she wasn’t Thea Queen whose father had died in a boating accident, or whose brother had spent five years on an island and came back as a haunted killer, or whose mother who had abetted a murderer in destroying half the city.

She was just Thea.

And if all it took for her to smile so freely was throwing a party and inviting practically all of her class over, Oliver would have done it sooner despite how much it irked him to be so out of place. He’d do anything to help Thea. Though he couldn’t always be the person she needed him to be, he always made sure to try to show and tell her how important she was in his life. She was with him every day on the island; memories of them playing hide-and-seek and having tea parties and just hanging out were frequent visitors at night when the earth was as silent as it could be and he was left alone to trudge the wasteland of forgotten scenes and fleeting instances of pure happiness. It was interesting that amid the horrors he faced while there, snapshots of home were never far out of his periphery; lingering at the edges of his consciousness, ready to plucked from the slightest ruffles of familiarity.

There was a tree that he passed every day when all that remained was him after…everything, and it had this distinct rugged bark and shape of leaf that made it different from others. It wasn’t very tall and it didn’t grow fruit or anything edible so essentially it was useless to him, but it resembled a tree that he and Thea spent hours climbing when they spent summers at the Queen lodge. Whenever he crossed its path, Oliver would gently brush his fingers along the stump, hoping that the slightest of touches would somehow close the distance between them, letting Thea know that he was still alive, still breathing, still fighting.

He treated it like a link between his world and hers.

“Ollie?”

Oliver spun around to his sister, clicking back into mode, mentally heaving all of the island stuff to the side. “Hey,” he said, grin sliding into place.

The girl eyed him sceptically. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Why?”

“It’s just you look like you’re in pain or something.”

Yep, he was definitely fitting in to this party…

“I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been to a party where I’m…not the centre of attention,” he quipped. “Takes some getting used to.” Thea rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as her smile widened. “But more importantly,” Oliver continued, “are you having a good time?”

She took some time pondering over the question, her head bobbing around to each sector of the commotion. “Yeah, I am,” she answered definitively. For someone who was turning sixteen, his sister had a way of sounding much older than her years. He assumed it was to do with how hectic her life had been since she was just a child, forced into a life where the pleasures of being a kid were a lost dream. A pang of guilt shot through him. “I gotta be honest I wasn’t really in the mood for seeing a lot of people but…I’m happy they’re all here. I guess I don’t feel so alone, you know?”

A quick breath left his lips and before she could even react, he wrapped her up in his arms, letting a hand cup the back of her head as her words echoed around his mind. “You’re never alone, Speedy. Always know that.”

“God Ollie you can get so dramatic at times,” she remarked wistfully but still hugged him tighter. “I know that.”

They stayed that way until some song came on and the whole place howled in what he was pretty sure was collective delight. Breaking apart, he scrunched his face, listening to the lyrics and having absolutely no idea who or what it was. Thea, upon seeing his bemused look, scoffed playfully. “Seriously, you need to start listening to music that’s been released since you came home. Being out of the pop culture circuit is so not going to help your club business. I’m amazed it’s still open.”

“The club is doing just fine,” he defended immediately.

His sister laughed, tucking hair behind her ears. “I’m sure it is, big brother.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled with a smirk.

“So…are there any people your age showing up to this? No offense, but it’s kind of sad to see a grown man look so…” she waved her hands out in front of her, as if the action alone could magically conjure up the word she was looking for, “…lonely. I think you’re kind of bringing down the mood.”

Oliver jerked upright as if stung. “I am not bringing down the mood.” The look she flung his way levelled him and he cleared his throat. “Felicity’s coming tonight. I think,” he said, training his eyes on a couple of teenage boys who appeared to be walking the fine line between spirited and rowdy. He made a note to keep an eye on them throughout the night.

Wow, he really was bringing down the mood.

“Seriously?” Thea’s face instantly lit up. “Oh my gosh that’s awesome!” She nudged him with her elbow. “I bet you can’t wait to see her.”

“She’s coming for you; not me.”

“Oh no doubt – she always liked me best anyway,” she joked. “But really, Ollie, you gotta start doing something about this.”

“What are you talking about?”

The girl absentmindedly bopped along to the beat. “I’m talking about how lovesick you’re acting. Your dream girl – the girl you were all mushy and gooey over for years? – is back and you haven’t made a move yet. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen her; you guys work in the same building and you’re out late all of the time-”

“Speedy, there’s nothing going on-”

“Oh I know,” she interjected pointedly. His eyebrows hiked and she carried on, “If you guys were back together you’d be bouncing off the walls like some hyped-up kid. I’m just saying if you keep pushing her away or avoiding your feelings or whatever it is that you’re particularly good at, you’re gonna lose your chance with her. Not many people get second chances like this so stop screwing around, and embrace it.”

Oliver coughed an incredulous laugh. Who’d have thought that his baby sister would be the one dishing out advice to him? “Thea Queen: Relationship Expert. Who knew?” he said, draping an arm around her and pulling her to him so that he could kiss the top of her head.

“Ollie,” she groaned, “you’re embarrassing me at my own party!”

“Is that not my job?” he posed innocently.

She ducked out of his hold, smirking as she twisted around so she could stand in facing him. “I’m going back to play hostess now; at least try to look like you’re having a good time until Felicity gets here, ‘kay?”

He sighed in reply and watched as she seamlessly slot back into the activity, immediately conversing with five girls as if she had been there the whole time. All those Queen family parties must have been rubbing off oh her.

Thumping his fists together just for something to do, Oliver craned his neck in the hope that Felicity was already there, somehow waiting in the wings to rescue him from, well, himself. Any time a flash of blonde hair cracked into his eyeline, he consciously moved toward it, only to then be verily disappointed when it turned out to be yet another over-exuberant teenage girl who was more occupied with being in the Queen home than with Thea.

The stomach-lurching swoop every time he was wrong was beginning to take its toll on him and instead of prolonging the frustration, Oliver took to the kitchen and planted himself down at the island, hands tossing his phone around in deliberation. Should he call her? Was that too desperate? Maybe so. And when did he get so pathetic?

God, he was hopeless.

Perhaps it was stupid on every single level, but what Thea said made sense. To a degree. Obviously his little sister didn’t know about what he did at night or the nightmares that still plagued him or the sheer fear he had that he’d hurt her even worse than the last time, but she did know him - the Oliver that existed beneath the weight of the past, and she knew he had reservations and doubts but thathe still loved Felicity. After everything, maybe she could still see that guy.

After everything, maybe he could be that guy…

“Wow you’ve really lost your party touch.”

Oliver flinched at the sudden sound, spinning the chair around toward her. “Felicity,” he said breathlessly. She smiled shyly under his gaze. “Uh, yeah apparently I have. Thea already pointed that out to me earlier. Turns out I’m bringing down the mood.” He rose, eyes soft. “You came.”

Felicity fixed her eyes on the comings and goings of people who were more than happy to open up cabinets and take out food and just generally make a mess as if it were their own house. He tried not to let it get to him. “I did. I mean, I said I would and I’m a woman of my word so here I am – and I didn’t need to say any of that but for some reason I couldn’t help myself…”

He chuckled lightly. “Well I’m glad you’re here.”

“Really?”

He cocked his head to the side inquisitively. “Of course I am. I’m always happy to see you.”

The comment was not lost on her but she shrugged it off, pursing her lips. “Great party,” she mentioned by way of subject change and that coy grin he sported couldn’t be tamed. “Looks a lot like the parties you used to throw when we were their age.”

“You just indirectly called us old you know,” he muttered sardonically. “And technically Tommy was the party-thrower; I just tagged along for support. And a good time I guess.”

The blonde’s eyes went dark, her whole demeanour changing in a second. The air fell strangely thick with grief, an unspoken waft of nostalgia drifting around intrudingly. “Well he would definitely approve of this. He taught you well.”

It only hit him then that that was the first time either of them had spoken about Tommy with each other. “I don’t know. You know what he was like; he practically bled charisma – I, on the other hand, do not. And according to my little sister, my acting skills aren’t exactly up to scratch.”

“Well we all know you’re not a good liar,” she offered in amusement – before cutting her giggle short as she rolled in her lips. “I didn’t mean to imply that you lie or anything by the way…I was just trying to break the ice, I guess, which didn’t really have the desired effect…like most of my attempts. So, uh, is Thea around? This,” she waved the box she was holding, “isn’t much but I hate going to parties without a present and getting a small gift is not as bad as not bringing a gift at all so I went out earlier and tried to remember a single thing that Thea likes – which was way harder than what it should have been – and ended up running all over Starling and then when inspiration finally hit me, I was halfway across town from where I needed to be and-” Felicity stopped herself, punting the air with the box as if she was physically trying to put an end to the verbal spaz. “Sorry,” she said meekly, looking at him from under her eyelashes.

Oliver leaned back on the island, arms folded over his chest. “Don’t be; I love it when you ramble,” he replied wistfully. “Let’s me know what you’re thinking. Nowadays, people tend to filter what they’re going to say to me before they say it and I kind of hate that.” He shrugged. “I was always used to you telling me like it was.”

The blonde tapped her fingers on the present, biting her lip as she shimmied out of the way of oncoming traffic. To think that the kids had complete disregard for the only two adults in the house only served to heighten his contempt. They could have at least excused themselves as they passed.

Okay now he was turning into his father.

“So…Thea?” she deflected, spying one kid who was concocting some weird food mix in a bowl over by the sink. Her head shook in confusion then turned back in his direction.  

“Oh, she’s around here somewhere-”

“Felicity?!” The voice rang through the air over the noise; a warning for her arrival. Both of them stilled in anticipation, awaiting the moment her youthful energy would bound around the corner, and as soon as Thea appeared, she practically pounced on the blonde, arms engulfing her frame, their bodies swaying dangerously from side to side as the momentum almost toppled them onto the ground. Oliver watched on with a content smile on his face. Granted, it was a little odd to see a much older version of his sister hugging Felicity, but at the same time, the scene was awash with an innate familiarity that he couldn’t deny.

“I thought I heard you but then I couldn’t be sure, but then you started babbling on and I just knew it was you!” Thea exclaimed, pulling her in for another quick embrace.

Felicity laughed, the sound so musical it felt out-of-place against the drone around them. She looked completely at ease, any tension in her shoulders dissolving the minute the brunette showed up. Her eyes scanned her, head tilted to the side as she said, “I cannot believe how grown up you are!”

“You sound like my mom!” The girl rolled her eyes. “I am turning sixteen you know.”

“So I heard,” Felicity replied happily, her hand absently running through the ends of his sister’s hair. “I just can’t believe it considering the last time I saw you, you were about four inches shorter and had your hair in pigtails and you carried Mr Bubbles with you pretty much everywhere you went-”

“Felicity,” Thea shushed, slashing her hand through the air in an effort to stop her. “Don’t bring up Mr Bubbles here,” she murmured through gritted teeth, anxiously inspecting beside her to make sure no one heard.

Oliver swallowed a chortle, almost choking with the influx of air. He did little to ignore the glare she emitted his way, instead choosing to indulge in her embarrassment.

The blonde bit back a grin and took the opportunity to present her gift with only minimal trepidation. “This is for you,” she began. Thea accepted it, raising it to the side of her head and shaking it just enough so that whatever inside moved. Typical Thea. “It’s not much,” Felicity carried on, unable to help herself, “but after a lot of thought this came to mind and…well, it just seemed to fit. I hope you like it.”

There was an undercurrent of fondness in the way she spoke that piqued his interest and, probably not all that subtly, Oliver grasped the edges of the island with his hands, his torso leaned forward so that he could have a better view.

“You didn’t have to buy me anything.”

“Yes I did,” she answered knowingly. This time Oliver did scoff. If there was one thing his sister loved, it was receiving presents.

“Well if you insist,” she drawled, features alight in excitement as she lifted the lid of the box open. “Oh my gosh, ‘Licity this – this is…” she removed the object, staring at it with awe before locking gazes with the blonde, “amazing,” she breathed.

Oliver couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay any longer, moving over so that he was directly behind the brunette. Once he saw what had her so caught off guard, his breath hitched. It wasn’t flashy or pricey. It wasn’t overly complicated or something that needed explanation. It was the simplest of heartfelt gifts and that made it all the more special – especially to him.

Thea took the photo frame in her hands, discarding the pink box to the side. “This was taken…”

“The day before you went to that summer camp,” Felicity filled in. “You didn’t want to go and insisted that we have a tea party with you so that it’d, and I quote, ‘Take your mind off the whole thing’.” She beamed whimsically then. “You were a pretty dramatic seven-year-old.”

“See? I told you you were always a drama queen,” Oliver teased, taking the picture from her hands.

“Shut up, Ollie.”

“Never.” He winked at her.

Examining the photo as if it were from another lifetime, his lips twitched, a lightness in his chest making itself known. All that it displayed was a smiling Oliver with an equally elated Thea on his lap at her state-of-the-art tea party table – nothing complex about the scene at all. In fact, there were probably hundreds of pictures just like that locked in a rusty trunk somewhere in the mansion, but there was something so considerate about someone outside of the immediate family handing them a memory.

His face hurt from smiling so much.

---

The spoon rattled around the teacup noisily, the impression of stirring not lost on his baby sister. Thea, dressed in one of her too-big princess gowns that she insisted on wearing over her regular clothes, sighed heavily in disapproval and shook her head aggressively. “No Ollie!” she scorned. “A gentleman never stirs his tea like that! Right, ‘Licity?”

Oliver glanced over at Felicity who was sitting beside him and quietly sipping away at the imaginary drink, eyes dancing in amusement. He shrugged. She licked her lips and placed down the cup with delicate assurance, then folded her hands onto her laps. “Right,” she agreed earnestly.

“Tell him the proper way to do it! He listens to youuuuu,” she half-yelled, a giggle bubbling out of her.

He smiled goofily, raising his eyebrows at her, gesturing to the teacup. “Yeah, Felicity. Tell me.”

The blonde accepted the challenge, determination in the form of her creased brow unmistakable. “Okay then.” Her hands came over to each one of his shoulders, pushing them back forcefully so that he had to sit up straight and it came as such a surprise to Oliver that he almost flew backward, only catching himself at the last second before he took the whole neatly set-up table with him. Thea tried and failed to stop herself from falling into convulsion, her little frame shaking with laughter. Felicity suppressed her own smirk, her features slipping back into her serious state after a moment. “Always sit up straight,” she informed coolly as though she was a teacher talking to a student. “Shoulders back, head high.”

He did what he was told, adding a little playful flair while doing so. A jerk of the head signalled for her to continue, the pampered rich boy act on display.

“Now…” Felicity handed him the cup and spoon, maintaining eye contact the whole time. If he wasn’t trying so hard to be a perfect gentleman for his little sister, he would have happily let himself fall under the spell of her blues; a habit he never wanted to break. Sometimes it’d be minutes before he’d snap out of his daze, so indulgently lost by how the light flickered through them, how the colour deepened and darkened and transformed into liquid whenever she was upset, how they widened when he said or did something that surprised her… “Stir it counter-clockwise in smooth circles.”

A scoff tripped off his tongue at how ridiculous the order sounded but he did what he was told because he really didn’t want to see her stern glare or hear her loud voice – he knew they’d be on the horizon were he not to listen. The size of the cup when compared with his hand was comical and he momentarily wondered how bad his reputation would dive if anyone from school would have seen him in that moment.

“Make sure to take small sips – oh, and no slurping,” she warned, leaning closer so as to drop her voice. “It’s not really a hit with the ladies.”

“Oh yeah, sure. I can’t be driving the women away, right Speedy?”

Thea beamed, exposing her missing front teeth, and fixed a saucer in front of her. “It’s okay, Ollie. You already have Felicity; you don’t need anybody else.”

Funnily, and somewhat embarrassingly, enough, Oliver was the one to blush at the words, the heat rising to his cheeks in record time. He cleared his throat, placing his full attention on Mr Bubbles who was sitting opposite him, his beady eyes appearing mischievous in the light. Mr Bubbles was a polar bear, who wore a tie and glasses, that Oliver had bought for her for her third birthday and was Thea’s favourite toy. Despite her room being filled to the brim with as many toys as humanly possible, everywhere she went, he went too.

Pulling himself together, he exhaled deeply and nodded. “You’re right.” He looked over at Felicity who was studying his every move with intensity. “I don’t.”

Saying that the little squeak that erupted from her didn’t fill him with a sense of elated ego would be lying. How he could still have that effect on her after all that time amazed him, and feeling the way he did, and being able to say things like that to her without a hint of hesitation or doubt, was incredibly easy. Easier than it ever should have been.

“Oh!” Thea gasped suddenly, hands covering her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her, concern colouring his tone.

She was so cute with her little scrunched up nose and wide eyes; a picture of innocence in a tiara and gown. “I forgot Jessie!”

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but shut it promptly when he realized he had nothing to say. He had absolutely no idea who Jessie was and why her absence was so shocking – but Thea was practically beside herself at the mere thought of it. Felicity, though too looking confused, nudged his knee with hers, and jumped in, “Who?”

Somehow the seven-year-old had perfected the unimpressed stare Moira Queen so often used to great effect, her steely eyes putting the blonde in her place. “Mr Bubbles’ girlfriend!” she exclaimed with added vigour as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s supposed to be here.”

“I can’t believe she’s standing him up,” Oliver chimed in with mock disgust, playing along.

Felicity, her whole body vibrating with silent laughter, pushed up her glasses and leaned over the table, making the princess to move forward too. “Well we can’t let Mr Bubbles find out; do you know where Jessie is?” she whispered, hand cupped around her mouth away from the bear.

Thea nodded profusely. “I’ll go get her!”

“Good. Oliver and I will keep him distracted. Be quick!”

The girl scrambled to her feet immediately, yanking up the ends of her dress, and scampered out of the room, her tiara cascading to the side in all her determination.

He twisted his head toward her, eyebrow kinked. “Did you just get rid of my kid sister so you could have me all to yourself?” he suggested, dropping a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

She pushed him away with a gentle titter. “You wish.”

“Oh I do,” he proffered teasingly.

The teacup still in hand, Oliver began to toss it from one hand to the other, making the lobs a tad more difficult as he went, and at one point chucking it over his girlfriend’s head and reaching around her to catch it before it fell to the floor. She seemed impressed with his display. He always did have pretty good reflexes.

“So I had a meeting with the school guidance counsellor today,” she announced out of nowhere, making sure to keep her focus on the flying cup.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirmed. “She told me about this scholarship opportunity with MIT that might be of interest to me.”

He pitched the cup behind him and jerked his shoulder to the side so he could angle his other arm back to catch it. “What kind of opportunity?”

“It’s done through the board at MIT. It gives students the chance to study abroad for part of their degree. She thinks I should apply for it, you know, just in case, because I’m eligible and my grades are good enough right now and I’m not useless when it comes to writing personal essays – so I may, possibly, have a shot…”

Oliver finally met her stare, the object spilling out of his grip and onto the floor with a wisp of a thud. “Wow, uh…that sounds like too good an opportunity to miss.” The comment was off-hand, bordering on detached. He didn’t plan for it to come out that way, not really; but though her remark was casual and nervy, the plunge of distant fear struck him immediately, the mere thought of Felicity leaving the country for college already unsettling him. “You should apply.”

“I probably won’t get it,” the blonde rushed in. “I mean I’m nearly positive that I won’t. Actually I’d bet a lot of money on it – if I had a lot of money that is. But you have a lot of money so…wait, I didn’t mean…” She clenched her fists, resting them on her lap. “Thousands apply – people with better grades and extra-curricular activities and you know, verbal coherency, and one blonde girl from Starling City isn’t going to even to cross their minds. As long as I get into MIT, that’s all that matters.”

“Felicity you’re a shoe-in for MIT,” he said warmly, smile widening. It was no secret that her dream was to study there and for her to think that she wasn’t going to get in was absurd. They’d be idiots not to let someone like her in. “There’s no way they’re passing up on you.”

“You think? I know it’s early – God, it’s so early – but I’ve been working to this for as long as I can remember and every time I think about it, I get stressed and then I go through an entire pint of mint chip and feel terrible afterwards-”

He cut off her ramble with a chaste kiss, hoping the gesture would swallow up her insecurities and set them free because if there was one thing Oliver knew, it was that Felicity was destined to do great things in her life.

“Thanks,” she breathed when he pulled back, her hand brushing the bottom of his chin affectionately.

“Anytime,” he sighed dreamily.

The patter of intrepid footsteps echoed from down the hall signalling Thea’s prompt return, and Oliver resumed his position, the cup now collected off the ground and between his fingers as though it was a priceless artefact. Hands full with what must have been Jessie (apparently she was a rather ugly octopus, who knew), Thea tumbled into the room in all her enthusiasm, tripping over her dress and splaying out onto the carpet. A second of shock followed with all three of them holding their breath.

Eventually, the girl started to move, her little body grappling to push itself upright. She didn’t cry, and Oliver seriously couldn’t have been more thankful for that, but he scooted over to her side right away and gathered her into his arms, amazed at how light she was, and fixed her onto his lap. Her eyes were red, ready to let the tears flow if they felt the need to but Thea Queen was defiant and refused to let them have their day.

“You okay?” he asked.

She sniffed, nodding, bottom lip jutting out. “Yep,” she said in a watery voice, popping the ‘p’.

“Well do you know what will make you feel better?”

Her head shook, finally discarding itself of the tiara as it toppled out of her curls and dove away from them.

“This!” Oliver began tickling her to no end, knowing exactly where she was ticklish. She squirmed, trying to slip away from him, squealing whenever he launched a new wave of attack, her cheeks bright red as she struggled to contain her fits of giggles. Her laughter contagious, he soon joined in, unable to hide his enjoyment for much longer as he tricked her on numerous occasions, it becoming a quick game of who could out-smart the other.  

They kept that way for a while until a flash startled them both.

“Did you just take a picture?” Oliver questioned, catching his breath.

Thea collapsed into his chest, exhausted from the activity and visibly happy for the breather. His arms curled around her frame instinctively.

“You guys looked so happy I couldn’t help myself,” Felicity said, shrugging her shoulders.

His brow wrinkled. “And you just happened to have a camera on you?”

“Well you never know when you’re going to need one.”

“Can we see, ‘Licity?” Thea pleaded in that adorable voice that had Oliver wrapped around her little finger. “Pleeeeeaaaassssseeeee?”

The blonde shook her head, ponytail swishing behind her. “We can’t keep Mr Bubbles waiting now can we? Not when his girlfriend has finally arrived.”

Thea jumped out of his arms straight away, her mind already on something else. “No, no no we can’t!”

The three of them – along with Mr Bubbles and, apparently, the future Mrs Bubbles – went back to their tea party, with Oliver assuming the role of a perfect gentleman rather seamlessly.

Felicity didn’t bring college up again until months later.

---

They wandered out of the house to the balcony that overlooked the pool and the rest of the mansion’s grounds, leaving the rambunctious teens to do their thing. Booming bass pulsated through the ground making it nearly impossible not to move in time with the music, the hum flowing out into the open air.

The sky was a rich navy, the stars twinkling against the vast canvass providing the perfect accompaniment.

They hadn’t really spoken about much during the time she had been at the house; comments on the food or the music or the guests in general were the main topics of conversation but even still, there wasn’t a compulsion to cut away the small talk and hit at the deeper stuff. Both were content with just being around one another, enjoying the company and taking a break from whatever plagued their thoughts. It just was.

But standing out there and gazing over his whole world, he felt the shift in the air. It was subtle; like the brush of a feather against the skin or a light breeze on a warm day.  

“It really is a great party, Oliver. Thea’s having a great time.”

“Yeah,” he agreed fondly. “It’s kind of nice to see the mansion alive again.”

“Turns out all you needed were a bunch of teenagers with low inhibitions,” she joked, a light laugh escaping out.

As much as the idea somewhat irritated him, he nodded easily. When he tilted his head toward her expecting to see her smiling, he noticed the crease in between her eyebrows – a sure sign she was seriously contemplating something. “You okay?”

Felicity rose her chin slowly, eyes sad. “Earlier…when I brought up Tommy,” she winced at the mention of his name, “I didn’t mean to just shrug it off or, you know, not talk about him. I know that we haven’t spoken about him since I’ve been back and…” Her words died; she herself at a loss for what to say.

Oliver leaned his back against the stone wall, shoulders facing the double doors that led out to the balcony. “Felicity,” he’d never grow weary of saying her name; he loved how it slipped out so naturally, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“You miss him,” she said simply, standing next to him.

This time he searched her expression, ocean eyes watching for the minutest of changes. “So do you.”

“I think about him every day,” she confessed, throwing her head back, mapping the stars. “I don’t know if you know this or not but…we kept in contact while you were gone. Not daily contact, but we’d email and phone every now and again. I think it was easier for him to have someone to talk to; he was pretty lost that first year. I guess we all were.”

“He never told me that.”

The blonde raised her shoulders. “Maybe it was just never the right time.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Talking about Tommy was always so difficult; like breathing while being pinned down by a heavy object. No room to manoeuvre. No way of lightening the load. Nobody understood the loss like he did; nobody knew him like he did. Laurel grieved over him too, but it was different. Both of them carried guilt over how circumstances ended between the three of them, leaving this sour tang in the air whenever they were around one another. It never seemed to be getting easier. But talking about him with Felicity? Maybe, just maybe, the heaviness would diminish.

Oliver just wished he could say he was sorry and that he missed him. At night he would send that prayer up hoping that through whatever greater force was out there, Tommy would know how he felt. That was all he wanted.

“I planned to go to the funeral,” she remarked, the comment drifting over to the door. “I was all set, I was packed and then…” she huffed, “…my jerk of a boss told me he’d fire me if I left. I told him I’d make up the time, that I’d put the hours in but it was stay or leave – there was no third option. I needed the money for my rent and…God, I hated myself for it. And I hated my boss. And my job. That’s when I started looking for a new one.” An aggressive hand came up to rub across her cheek, a few tears leaking. “As soon as I got settled here, I went to visit his grave to say goodbye.” She chuckled humourlessly. “It all seemed so redundant, you know? Go to a stone in the ground and talk to it.”

His jaw clenched, emotion rising within him. “Sometimes it helps. Not always.” She reached over to squeeze his hands that were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white and the gesture was so sweet and caring that he immediately felt calmer. It made no sense but, at the same time, it did. “Maybe we could…go together one day?”

“I’d like that,” she smiled, a watery curl of lips.

A comfortable silence fell upon them, the throes of the party providing enough sound to attract their interest. The soft breeze ruffled a few wayward leaves around them, the swooping and crashing of them so abstractly soothing. Little things like that Oliver seemed to notice more since he had returned home; what would usually be mundane and trivial, was now of curiosity, piquing his interest in ways he could never fully comprehend.

Yet he was the first to speak again.

“That was a great present,” he murmured loud enough to be heard over the steady noise. “What you got Thea.”

Her shoulder rubbed against his as she swirled around to look out over the garden and planted her hands out wide on the stone wall. “I was amazed I still had it. But I’ve always loved that picture; you looked so…happy.”

“I was - not as happy as Mr Bubbles was when Jessie finally showed up for their date but close enough,” he jested.

The temperature dropping by the minute, Felicity wrapped her arms around herself to keep the chill out. Oliver wished he had a coat so he could have offered it to her, blissfully ignoring how cliché it would have been. He was all about the clichés when it came to a certain blonde.

“You remember that day?”

He contemplated for a minute, bypassing the obvious uncomplicated answer. Whatever it was about that moment, it was as though the barriers that were usually set so high had significantly lowered, allowing him the chance to drop his own walls and let Felicity have a glimpse in. “I had a lot of time to think on the island,” he started, angling his body sideways so that one elbow rested on the stone. “Sometimes, out of nowhere, memories would just flood into my brain, you know? Images, snippets of conversations, entire scenes…they could get pretty overwhelming at times. It was kind of like watching TV but the screen keeps cutting out and by the time the picture comes back you’re onto an entirely different part of the show.” His thumb began to rub off his fingers, his agitation over his past needing an outlet. “After a while, I started to, I don’t know, catalogue them I guess. Put them in order. So…I remember a lot of things. It’s a gift – and a curse.”

She sighed; a sad sound that juxtaposed with the euphoria seeping out of the house. “Oliver…” she paused to think over her words, “…Ar- are you happy now?” It seemed like a simple enough question, something a lot of people would ask without waiting for a loaded answer. A redundant question really. Something you laugh off or make a joke about.

But not this time.

Time passed before he replied, how long he didn’t know, but a part of him waited because he expected her to take it back or babble her way over it yet the silence lengthened to a point where he wondered whether she had actually asked it or not.

He could, maybe should, have lied. But then he understood that that wasn’t an option. What was the point? What had he to gain by denying how he felt, by telling her some half-truth crap that he knew he’d be shovelling out for years to come? Felicity wasn’t some random girl; she wasn’t someone he could walk away from and never think about again.

“I don’t…I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again. Content? Hopefully. But I-I don’t think I deserve to be happy, Felicity. Not after everything that I went through. Someone who has seen the things that I’ve seen, who has done the things I’ve done – I feel like they don’t get to feel that kind of emotion.”

Felicity snapped sideways, her eyes hard. “No, I don’t accept that. You can’t just accept things, Oliver.” Her words were forceful and assured, and he swallowed under her stare. “What happened to you was cruel and horrible beyond words but it’s doesn’t define you. You define you. You choose who you’re going to be. We’re not assigned roles in life; we forge our own paths, we make our own way.” With only a second of reticence, the blonde’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb trailing through the scruff. “I don’t know everything that happened to you, Oliver, but I do know that you deserve to be happy. You do. Believe that. You just gotta figure out how.”

He covered her hand hastily, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could rein them in, “And what if I said I’m looking at it right now? What if I said you make me happy?” Her eyes widened under the certainty in his tone. “I came home a broken man,” he said quietly. “I was angry and vengeful and so full of darkness that I couldn’t see anything. All I saw was destruction everywhere I went. A life that didn’t belong to me. You don’t even want to know what I saw when I looked in the mirror.” Tears pooled in his eyes, making his vision blurring. Her hand tensed on his face. “All I’ve been trying to do since I came back is find a way to live again; to give myself purpose and to tell myself that there had to be a reason why I survived while others…” he trailed off, throat tight. “I wanted to find home – that feeling that you get when you’re where you’re supposed to be. A place to belong. I didn’t feel it when I came back.” Azure eyes bore into him, so many things floating through them. “I’m just trying to get home, Felicity. I didn’t know how to do it, I didn’t know how it would happen or if it would happen but when I saw you – the exact moment you walked back in my life – I felt it. I was home. Really home. You are what makes me happy.”

She gulped, on the brink of crying. “Oliver…”

“Look I’m not stupid,” he interjected, needing to make her see. “I know there are so many things to say and work out. I know it’s not simple between us, and I know we’re not the same people – that I’m not the same person - but I don’t want to fight this anymore. I’m sick of fighting my feelings. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way anymore but I can’t go around pretending like every time I see you I don’t want to kiss you. I want to be with you, Felicity. You are my home.” Taking a chance, he leaned in closer and pressed his forehead against hers, drinking in her presence and finding rest in the fact that she didn’t pull away. “There are a lot of reasons why we can’t be together, more than we know, but I can think of one good reason why we should be...” the blonde’s breath hitched. “I love you, Felicity Smoak. I don’t care who knows it and I don’t care how messed up our lives are – I love you and that’s all there is to it. That’s it for me.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed, her breath deepening under the weight of the declaration.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Placing a finger under her chin, he tilted it up so that their lips could meet, too much time already wasting by talking. The moment they collided, the world stilled; everything that had been out of shape, that didn’t make sense, that was broken, was restored to the way it should be. Everything was so right that he questioned how something could ever be wrong when they were together. They moved in unison: his hands landed on her hips, pulling her flush to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers scraping through the ends of his hair, mouth opening so he could deepen the kiss.

He could have kissed her forever.

And he wanted to.

But the sound of Oliver’s phone ringing crashed them back to reality. Reluctantly, they parted, and Felicity disentangled herself from him sheepishly, taking a step back, cheeks flushed. He wanted to grab her and never let her go again, to just have her in his arms a little longer. The heat from her touch still burned through his clothes.

“Diggle,” he greeted, taking a deep breath, eyes trained on the blonde who was looking anywhere else but at him.

“Oliver, something’s wrong – I don’t…I’m not…”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he interrogated, filling up with concern at his friend’s strained voice. He sounded…in pain?

“I’m not sure…but I can’t…”

“Diggle!”

The line went dead.

Oliver stared at the blank screen.

“Oliver? What’s wrong – is Mr Diggle okay?”

He looked at her. “I don’t know,” he replied evenly, mind ruminating. “I have to go.” He stalked over to the door, stopped abruptly and twisted back around toward her. “I’m sorry, I just…I have to-”

“Go, Oliver,” she ordered, motioning with her hand. “It’s okay.”

He allowed himself one last look at her standing there on the balcony, lips swollen from their exchange, and then ducked back into the house, on his way to help his friend.

Chapter Text

When he finally made it to the foundry, Oliver found Diggle writhing in pain on the medical table, his whole frame locked in convulsion causing the furniture to grate against the metal floor in ominous fashion. He took long, purposeful steps toward the man, his body tense in case whatever had taken hold of his friend forced him to lash out. Hands outstretched, he circled the table, eyes fixed on the figure.

“Digg?”

 His voice sounded strange even to him. A mixture of fear and concern.

John’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “Ol-Oliver?” His face contorted in discomfort. “What the…what hell is happening to me?” he ground out through barred teeth. Pushing himself into a seating position, a string of curses fell from his lips as his limbs seemingly refused to cooperate with his brain’s demands. Oliver immediately came to his aid, slinging his arm around his shoulders to keep him steady while using his other arm to grab the blanket that hung off the chair and draping it over him. The gesture itself seemed futile but Diggle secured himself under it right away, fists clenching the material like a lifeline.

“Tell me what happened,” Oliver said, standing in front of him.

“I…don-don’t know,” he stammered out, utilising whatever strength he had left to look the man in the eye. “I just – I fel-felt weird all day…” he turned his head into his body, letting out a cry of anguish, “…and I som-somehow made…it he-here and,” he sucked in air through his teeth, “tha-that’s…that’s when I called you.”

“Okay well we need to get you to a hospital-”

His face fell, head shaking defiantly. “Oliver I don’t think,” he took a deep breath, “I c-can leave this place.”

Oliver gaze was firm. “You need medical attention, Digg. We need to find out what’s in your system.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind a niggling idea was pressing forward, distracting him, attracting his attention, and though he tried to cast it aside, still it burned like a raging fire.

The sweating, the incessant shaking, and the bouts of agony - his partner’s symptoms looked oddly similar, if not a little more severe, to withdrawal. A withdrawal from Vertigo to be specific.  

But that was impossible.

On every level.

The Count was locked away.

The last strain of the drug had been burned.

The city was clean.

And John Diggle would never, under any circumstances, use it.

Yet…he couldn’t really overlook it, could he?

“Digg,” he started, ducking his head so that his friend would meet his stare. Any sense of colour from his depths had diluted, leaving nothing but eerie pupils searing through him. “I need to take a blood sample, okay? I’ll get in analysed by Applied Sciences in the morning so we’ll know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

Diggle shook again but kept his head as still as possible, one eyebrow asking questions. “Wha-what do you…think is wro-ng with me?”

He began rubbing his fingers together, the habit becoming impossible to break as time wore on. Once starting as a way of easing the bounding agitation, of centring his aggression into one place, it had steadily become a part of him; something that he absolutely had to do when placed in difficult situations. “I just want to eliminate a few things, that’s all.”

“Oliver.” It was more of a grunt than a word but loaded with demand nevertheless.

The man sighed, his head dropping in exasperation. He didn’t want to say it aloud; voicing it made it a viable lead, and that meant that something he thought he had buried months ago had somehow crawled back to the surface, endangering his city yet again. “I just want to make sure it’s not…Vertigo.” The word squeezed through his throat, his own body practically rejecting it.

John wrapped the blanket around him further. “I’ve ne-never taken Vertigo i-in my life,” he insisted defiantly, his breaths ragged and worn.

Oliver stood taller, chin raised. “I know but with your symptoms…we just need to cross it off the list.”

“Wh-what is it with you and lists?”

He snickered. “At least you can make jokes – bad ones, but jokes nonetheless.”

“Just d-do it.” Digg removed the blanket from his left arm. The sleeves of his shirt had already been rolled up past the elbows and he offered his arm to Oliver, sighing deeply.

Grabbing the kit from the opposite table, the blonde-haired man prepped himself, holding the arm as steady as he could. He turned his head in his direction, face calm and assuring. “I promise we’ll find out what’s wrong,” he said, drawing a resolute nod in return.

He prayed his hunch was wrong.

---

They were lazily sprawled out on the couch with Felicity’s head rested snugly in the crook of his neck and her legs hooked around his while Oliver’s arm draped around her as he sat cross-legged. It shouldn’t have been comfortable – but it was, and neither of them had moved in what felt like hours. TV was pretty mindless and for most of the Saturday they just kept it on the background for the noise. It was such a simple thing really, watching TV together for no other reason than they could, but yet it didn’t strike any of them as odd that they could just be content in each other’s presence. After all, that was the essence of their relationship.

“We should really get something to eat,” Felicity said into his shoulder.

“But then we’d have to move,” he countered with a dramatic whine. “And why would we ever want to do that?” He pulled her closer – if that was even possible - to him then, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’m happy here.”

And he was.

More than happy.

“So am I,” she placated cutely, “but I would be way happier if I was snacking on, say, a cookie or something…”

“You seriously want to move to get a cookie?”

She beamed, all straight teeth showing. “I really do.”

Unable to resist her charm, a chortle escaped him and he began to disentangle himself from her. Immediately he missed her warmth; they had been sat like that for so long that it almost felt as though they were an extension of each other. As soon as they stood, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder, taking her by enough surprise that she yelped at the touch first before relaxing back into him.

“You seriously didn’t want me to get a cookie, did you?” she teased, leading them both out of the study and into a very dark kitchen. When had the sun set?

He reached out to flick the light switch, illuminating the vast space. “Well now that you mention it, sugar sounds so good right now.”

“See? I’m full of good ideas,” the blonde chirped proudly, ducking out of his stronghold and skipping over to the pantry.

One of the first times she had been in his house, Felicity had been pretty upset at the fact that the Queen mansion was severely lacking in the junk food department – her words, not his - and insisted that they go shopping for ‘essentials’. It turned out that these ‘essentials’ consisted of chocolate of any kind, potato chips of almost every different flavour, chocolate chip cookies, Oreos and a pint of mint chip ice cream. Oliver was only too happy to oblige to his girlfriend’s demands and even cleared out a part of the pantry specifically for their purchases. Ever since then, Raisa made sure that that particular section was readily stocked with everything they could ever need and then some.

“Oh I know that,” he replied, raising his eyebrows suggestively before hopping up onto the island in one fluid movement.

Felicity looked over her shoulder at him, rolling her eyes. He couldn’t help but grin at her inability to hide her smile. That was one the things he loved most: being able to put a smile on her face. He’d be damned if he ever tired of that.  

She pulled out the box of chocolate chip cookies and wasted no time in shoving one into her mouth. He guessed she really wasn’t joking around about wanting one. Oliver, amused at her eagerness, snatched the box from her hands and brought it close to his chest, covering it from her as if protecting it from a vicious beast.

“Come on, Oliver,” she laughed, trying and failing to retrieve it as he evaded her touch at every attempt. He was quick to move from side to side making sure that she had no chance of getting the box and after a few seconds of her attacking with determination and yet being unsuccessful, he raised it over his head as high as he possibly could.

“If you want them, you’re gonna have to come up here and get them,” he teased, smirking down at her.

The blonde stared at him and rested her hands on her hips as she deliberated his offer. Suddenly a flicker of something crossed her eyes and without any more hesitation, she clambered atop to position herself next to him, wedged between his body and the sink. Her chin raised, she dropped her hand in front of him, a sweet smile stuck in place as she waited for him to give in.

“You really think that’s gonna work?” he posed, eyebrow quirked.

“You tell me.”

Oliver eyed her carefully, watching for changes in her depths. The cookie box came down toward her slowly and Felicity, in all of her impatience, reached out to grab it from him, but before she could gain a firm hold, he darted it away from her again, angling his body so that they were practically chest to chest and that his arm that held the object of desire was fixed behind his back. Before she could utter a complaint, his lips crashed into hers, swallowing them up.

She relaxed immediately, kissing him back with the same amount of intensity. Arms came up to snake around his neck as he let his hand fall to her waist, the two of them gradually edging forward as they became lost in one another. The box bounced off the island and fell to the floor when Oliver disposed of it so he could cup the back of his girlfriend’s head, tilting it back for better access. 

God, he loved kissing her. While he had his share of kissing girls from school, nothing compared to the feeling he got when his lips came into contact with those of Felicity Smoak. It was like the calm after the storm; a drink when thirsty; heat when cold. Salvation, even.

What wasn’t salvation, however, was the accidental turning on of the tap which caused a colossal spray of water to somehow erupt and soak both of them. Felicity screamed initially and then proceeded to laugh herself senseless as Oliver tried his best to stop the onslaught with his hands and then with tubs and utensils that were within his reach.

“You know you could try to help me!” he yelled over her giggles as bats at the taps became progressively more aggressive with its lack of cooperation.

Her laugh was infectious, his own following suit in no time, and then it was just the sound of them and the whizzing from the sink filling the room.

Eventually, after his t-shirt was thoroughly saturated and the delirium had faded, he managed to put an end to it, the last spurt of water flopping onto the counter in climax.  

“The whole wet t-shirt thing is good look on you,” the blonde quipped. “Really good stuff.”

Oliver pulled at the soaked cloth with an amused huff and hopped down from the counter. “Glad you think so.” He bound his arms around her waist and dropped a chaste kiss to her lips, a little resentful that they’d been interrupted.

“What the hell happened in here?!”

Felicity practically jumped out of his hold, the blush instant in her cheeks as Robert Queen imposingly stood in the doorway, his eyes raking over them and then shifting over to the mess on the counter. He couldn’t have been too thrilled with his undoubtedly expensive kitchen now coated in a layer of water. Droplets slid down the wood grain, creating tiny puddles on the marble tiles; the black countertop and everything on top of it was drenched to the core. His brow collapsed, hooding over his eyes.

“Uh…Dad…” He really wished he had come up with something a little more articulate there.

“Hi, Mr Queen,” Felicity contributed sheepishly, raising a timid hand in a half-wave, half-air punt.

Robert only narrowed his eyes more. If there was one thing Oliver understood about his father, it was that he was a powerful man and he used that power to great advantage whether it be in the business world or at home. Maybe it was that fundamental thought that often encouraged Oliver to provoke him in any way that he could. They seemed to be always at odds with one another, a weird dance they had started and never finished, circling and bending around issues, arguing and warring over the simplest things. That was their relationship: a push and pull until the rope snapped.

“What happened?” he repeatedly sternly.

“The sink just…went crazy. Water everywhere. I stopped it though so it’s okay. No harm done.” His beam fell slightly flat.

The man regarded him tiredly, disappointment etched into his features. There was nothing worse than that look. “When are you going to grow up, Oliver?” The question was so direct and so loaded that it was almost as if he had been practicing it long before he happened upon them.

“Wha-”

A hand came up to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it. In fact, I’m sick of hearing your excuses. Every time I think you’re finally taking things seriously, you prove me otherwise.”

“Dad, it was an accident; it’s not like we planned it-”

 “You’re eighteen,” he sighed, keeping his distance by the door jamb, “and you’ve only a few months left in school. You’re supposed to be going to college. And then you’ll work under me, learning the ropes of what it’s like to work in this industry – of what it’s like to run a successful business.” Oliver swallowed hard at the image of him in an oversized, over-expensive suit, shadowing his father in meetings and conferences and other soul destroying appointments, a pensive look permanently cast on his face. He struggled to suppress the shudder. “You’re going to be the CEO of a multi-billion company one day, son. At some point you have to realize that your future is in touching distance; you can’t always be fooling around and using that smile of yours to get what you want. You’ll have responsibilities. You’ll carry my name – your name – with you with every decision you make. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Sometimes we have to make choices and sometimes, even if we don’t want to, we have to look at the big picture. We have to plan for the future purely because we don’t know what it’ll hold.” A shadow crossed over the man’s face, his jaw clenched. “So, just…grow up, Oliver.” Robert picked up a towel that hung beside the door and tossed it over to him. “Clean up this mess. Raisa shouldn’t have to deal with your immaturity.”

And then he strode out of the room, the clacking of his polished shoes unnerving as he traipsed down the hall and away from them.

The silence that ensued was deafening.

Without even a glance in his girlfriend’s direction, he went about the work straight away, using whatever rumbling irritation that had built up in between his shoulders to good use. At some point Felicity began to help him but never once did she speak. She just helped.

But even still, after what felt like an enormous time had passed, the quiet started to grate on him. “He didn’t even acknowledge you,” he said to the counter as he mopped with extra rigour. “I mean, what’s his problem? He knows who you are, he knows your name, he knows what you mean to me and he didn’t even have the decency to say hi. I guess that’s Robert Queen for you.”

“It’s okay, Oliver,” she replied softly.

“But it’s not, Felicity.”  Straightening his back, he planted both hands on the counter, looking at her. “I…I can’t stand the way he just…he just disregards everything in my life right now because he’s so focused on what I should be doing or what I will be doing.” God, he hated the way his dad made him feel. Like he was nothing. Like he had no say. Like he was just a pawn and his father was the playmaker. And in a way, he was. “Why…why can’t he just leave me alone and let me make my own choices?” Tears pooled in his eyes, praying to be released but he held them back, kicking himself for being so damn emotional over something like this.

Felicity smiled at him sadly and rested her head on his shoulder, hands wrapping around his middle. She knew his question didn’t really require a response, but rather an intention to listen.

“I just…all this talk about the future – I hate it. Whatever happened to ‘living in the present’ and all that stuff they feed us in school? I’d much rather do that than think about colleges and leaving Starling and…” he let the sentence die with a heavy sigh, his arms folded on top of the island. His eyes couldn’t meet hers, his fears and concerns undoubtedly swirling in them, revealing the extent of his distress.

“Hey,” she whispered. “It’s okay to be worried about all that stuff, you know. No one’s ever ready for this.”

“You are,” he replied gently, training his view on the fridge and the numerous drawings Thea made that were stuck to the door. “You know what you want to do. You have the choice to do what you want to do. I…don’t.”

“But you do, Oliver. It’s your life; you have a say.”

“But my whole life I’ve had a pretty good idea of what my future looks like. I go to some Ivy League school that my parents paid for and study something I don’t want to and then, when I come of age, I shadow my dad at work until he retires and I become CEO. That’s it; that’s all there is.” Finally, he met her pondering stare. “ I hate not being in control, not being able to make my own decisions, and the closer we get to having to make choices and sort out our future plans, I just want to lock myself away and pretend it’s not happening.” He thread his fingers through hers. “Why do things have to change? I love everything just the way it is right now.”

“I wish I knew,” she said with a hint of sorrow, burrowing her head into his shoulder. “I really do.”

“In a few months nothing will be the same and I don’t even want to think about u-”

“Then don’t,” she interjected suddenly, solemnly. “Let’s do what you said and just live in the now.”

She was right – of course she was right. And he didn’t want to ruin what had been a pretty perfect day just because his dad managed to hit a nerve; that would be letting him win again.

With his pointer finger he lifted her chin and lightly brushed his lips over hers. “You got it.”

As much as he wanted to ignore it – and he really did – he couldn’t shift the weight that held him down like an anchor. Time moved by so quickly and eventually everything he knew was going to change for better or for worse and there’d be nothing he could do about it.

Maybe it was time he accepted that.

---

The sun had just begun its ascent when Oliver pulled up outside of Felicity’s house, the boom of his engine unnerving in the dawn air. There was something so calming about the stillness that time of the morning; aside from a couple of early risers jogging, her street was vacant, its world still lost in slumber.

Removing his helmet, he peered up at the top window, looking for a sign that she was awake. But he couldn’t wait. Needing to know whether Digg was poisoned with Vertigo far outweighed every other issue that plagued his mind – even what had transpired between him and Felicity the night before. His friend had barely slept all night and it was obvious that without some kind of antidote to counteract the effects he was only going to get worse.

No, he needed her help.

Oliver stalked up to the door, his confidence eking away from him with every step until there was barely any semblance of it left. The man knocking three times on the hardwood door was not the same one who had hopped onto the bike and sped across town the second the light of day showed its face. What was he going to say? He left her at his house last night after pouring out his heart and finally kissing her like he had wanted to for seven years…

Surely the first thing she’d want to know was where he went…and he wasn’t prepared for what could potentially be an interrogation.

Thoughts dipped in and out of his mind as he waited, the blood sample burning in his pocket. Oliver was not an impatient man, but this was a whole new level of complicated that he was not used to and trying to stack everything into a coherent pattern was inflaming the pressure point in his head. He just needed to get this done.

When the door finally opened just a crack, a wary Felicity sneaked her head out, suspicion written in her brow.  “Oliver?” she asked in surprise when she caught sight of him, opening the door wider. Her hair was untidily put up in a messy bun with loose tendrils falling on either side of her face, and she squinted due to the ever brightening sun and lack of sleep. The belt off her fluffy bathrobe, that matched her equally fluffy slippers, scraped the floor. To Oliver, she was beautiful. “What are you doing here?”

He couldn’t afford to spend the time dancing around the reason why he was beating on her door at an ungodly hour – no matter how much he wanted to. The smile that had slipped onto his face in the space between her inquisitive glare and her sleepy realization faded. “Look, I know it’s early and I know you probably have a million questions right now but I really need your help.”

“What’s wrong?” She crossed her arms, tone laden in concern.

Different excuses weaved through his mind as he tore down the streets on his way, each one possibly more ludicrous than the last, but all of them vanished the second he was faced with having to offer an explanation. Gone up in a puff of smoke, it was like he was reaching for something that was just always just out of his grasp.

“It’s Digg,” he struggled, head shaking. “He’s, uh, he’s really sick and he’s only getting worse.” The blonde’s eyes turned searching, her expression melancholy, compassion flowing from her pores. Oliver, breaking their trance, retrieved the vial from his pocket, holding it away from him, mid-way between them. “I need to know what’s in his system, Felicity. It’s important.” He presented the sample to her. “Could you please take this down to Applied Sciences and run a spectro-analysis on it to find out what it is we’re dealing with?”

“Oliver, if he’s sick he needs a doctor, not some scientists running tests on his blood - and  last time I checked, you’re not exactly licenced to practice medicine and neither am I so what’s really going on here?”

A heavy sigh wracked through his body. Felicity hated mysteries and not providing her with enough information was risky as it was, but it wasn’t the time or the place to be sifting through the layers of secrets he kept.

“I promise I will explain everything to you later.” Whether consciously or not, she took a step back. “Look,” he whispered, pleading, “I know what I’m asking is a lot and that it makes no sense and I’m not stupid, I know I haven’t exactly given you much reason to trust me but Diggle really needs our help right now and there’s no one else I can turn to. I guess…I guess I’m just asking you to go on blind faith.”

Seconds ticked by as she eyed the sample, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Eventually, and with a humourless laugh, she took it from him.

“Does that mean you’ll help?” he posed quietly.

Felicity raised her head, her tongue jutted to the side of her mouth. “Apart from the fact that this is so bizarre and it’s way too early to be thinking this much…” she shook her head, “…I can’t believe I’m actually saying this but yes, I will.”

All the breath shot out of him at once, the relief a welcome change. “Thank you,” he breathed, smashing through the emotional barriers and bridging the gap so that he could place a swift but sweet kiss on her forehead. She closed her eyes at the contact and he brushed the stray strands of hair off her face, the moment as intimate as it could be.

Felicity Smoak trusted him even when he gave her no reason to – it’s possible that he fell in love with her all over again.

---

If there was one thing on this earth that Felicity hated, it was mysteries. They bugged her; they needed to be solved. And usually she was rather good at the whole mystery-solving thing, but there was one that seemed to always evade her. It taunted her really, dangling itself in front of her as though she was a cat and it was a shiny object, never fully revealing itself even when she had thought that a breakthrough had been made.

Yes, there was no other mystery more intriguing and infuriating than Oliver Queen.

Ever since she was eighteen and his boat was shipwrecked, he had left question marks hanging over her life. Not that she would ever admit to anyone, much less herself, trying to find out what happened to him, his chances of survival, conspiracy theories, became almost a staple of her daily life. It never reached the point of obsession, but it was always hovering in the back of her conscious, toying with her sense of knowledge, teasing her. Maybe it was her broken heart or her grief, she didn’t know, but it took at least two years of no answers for her to truly put that whole incident to rest.

And yet, it turned out that he lived. Oliver survived.

Which of course dredged up even more questions but, despite her thirst for knowledge, understanding that there were some things she would never really be clued in on, that the island was more than a troubling time for him, pushing to know every aspect, every facet, of his life at that time was pretty much off limits to her – unless he was willing to share details of it with her. When she imagined those five years, she thought of horror and pain; of suffering and sorrow. Sometimes she’d draw pictures with her mind – vivid ones of desolation and evil; other times she heard sounds of anguish and cries for home. In each picture, a lone Oliver Queen stood, shaking amongst the throes of chaos, reaching out but to what she could never see.

The island changed him, and that change was obvious in every part of his self. Smiles took longer to form, eyes shifted rapidly as if always on alert, shoulders tensed in stiff squares, jokes felt harsh and awkward. But beneath that rough exterior, the old Oliver, the one she knew, was still there. Maybe experiences smothered and choked that life out of him but his heart still beat the same as it always had. That fact alone surely breathed hope.

And this version, this damaged man, had declared his love for her after all these years despite everything he had faced. After all the horrors and the evil, he was still capable of feeling, of expressing emotion, of loving her. Ofloving her. Not anyone else.

Even now as he proffered nothing but half-truths and limited information, she still trusted him. Still believed him when she had no reason to. Why? She didn’t really know. Oliver was always the exception to her trust issues, squirming his way into her heart when she wasn’t looking and refusing to leave even when she had turned off the lights and told him it was time to go. He never budged. Not an inch.

So as she went down to Applied Sciences and, through some deft persuasion, managed to get Digg’s blood sample analysed and the results given back to her in record time, Felicity briefly wondered if it mattered what little she understood about this Oliver. At the end of the day, she would trust him with anything and if he would do the same for her, could she really allow it to become a stumbling block for both her and them? Could she allow herself the joy in moving onward with him regardless of history? He kept secrets; everyone did. He was still Oliver. She was still Felicity. The odds of them pulling back to one another like magnets were stratospherically high – and maybe that wasn’t so bad.

He was still a mystery. But perhaps he was a mystery that didn’t need to be solved all at once; maybe she could learn bits and pieces as time went on, collecting and gathering shards of information when he opened himself up to her.

And for once, she was at peace with that.

The beauty of mystery was the challenges, the difficulties, the possibilities. Oliver was all that and then some.

If we had all the answers then we’d never fully appreciate anything; wonder would be nothing but a beautiful archaic concept.

And Felicity would gladly spend a lifetime finding out all the answers to the puzzle that was Oliver Queen.

---

“Felicity,” Oliver said in surprise, rising from his seat and knocking over an empty glass in the process. Both of them jerked at the noise. “Uh, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” He righted the tumbler and pushed it over to the other side of the desk, far away from any more potential collisions.

“Yeah, well I was gonna call you but then I thought we work in the same place and I could just take the elevator and travel up eighteen floors and save us all the hassle but now I feel a little exposed…” she gazed around the glass room, making awkward eye-contact with whom she assumed was his EA and pointedly turned back to him when the woman raised her eyebrow in a challenge, “…wow you can see everything from up here…”

He cocked his head to the side and waited for her to finish. He knew all too well how easy it was for her to become enraptured with the world; regular and mundane didn’t exist for her, everything becoming interesting in her mind. When her bout of awe seemed to subside and her depths appraised him properly once more, he prompted her, “Felicity.”

The blonde lifted a finger and swiped the air, “Right, yeah sorry,” she rambled with a sheepish smile. “Okay so I sent the sample to a chemist I know in Applied Sciences - the guy owes me a favour; long story, I fixed his parking ticket. Huh, I guess it’s not that long.” She shrugged, knocking herself back on track. “Anyway, it came back positive,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, head rotating from side to side to make sure that no one was in earshot, “for trace amounts of Vertigo.”

The confirmation rocketed through him, his blood pumping with aggression. This wasn’t supposed to happen; the drug, that poison, was supposed to be gone. Obliterated. Nothing but a gloomy memory of a passed time.

“Digg would never have taken Vertigo, he must have-”

“Been exposed to it somehow,” she finished definitively with a nod. Although she didn’t know Diggle all that well, it was evident in her body language and the gentle timbre in her tone that she cared about the man.

“I didn’t know Vertigo was in play again,” he grumbled, unable to cover up his irritation. His tie started to choke him all of a sudden and he loosened it immediately, releasing a sigh.

Felicity moved closer to his desk, thighs brushing against the edge yet still remaining opposite him. “Neither did I, but he needs an antidote, Oliver. He’s only going to get worse.”

The man looked her in the eye, jaw tight. “I know and I have one. I’ll make sure he gets it right away.”

That statement alone boded many questions but she didn’t voice them. Instead, she simply pushed up her glasses and then interlocked her fingers. “How do you think he got it in his system without his knowledge?”

“I…I don’t know.” Chagrin flaming through his veins, Oliver checked his watch. “And we need to find out, but right now Diggle is the main priority and he needs the formula.” He circled the desk, stopping in front of her, her eyes never once leaving him. “Thank you for what you did, Felicity,” he said so softly that were she not paying such close attention to him she perhaps wouldn’t have heard it. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” It was not a conscious thing with him – lowering his voice when he spoke to her – but every time he moved to say something, it was as though all of the gruff and callousness faded, dissolving into a wisp in the wind.

Her smile was sad but still there. He wished he could have mustered one for her.

But as he left, he took her hand in his, and pumped it twice.

Just like the very first time they met.

---

News of other similar instances broke out all over the city. Even the chief officer at the DA’s office, Adam Donner, had somehow had the same fate befall him. Only his particular plight was plastered all over news bulletins because, well firstly, he was severely unfortunate, and secondly he was in the middle of a high profile case when he came down ill. The fear and panic of the dubbed ‘mystery illness’ hitting any unsuspecting people spread across the masses like an infectious disease.

Felicity had been glued to her computer for hours, tracking every new story that appeared, looking for a sense of pattern in those affected. Every time she thought she was onto something, a new case showed its face and her theory would go sailing out the window, leaving her back at square one. And she hated square one. Her usually bright office had darkened over time, the sun giving up on the day’s work earlier than usual, and her head started to pound with the lack of information. Or caffeine. Or both.

Maybe more caffeine more than anything.

Wow, she’d been sitting there for a long time.

In fact, it had been so long that she just knew in her bones that her butt would leave the perfect imprint on her office chair. She was just happy that she finally decided to purchase her own chair for her space instead of using that hard as nails one they gave her when she first arrived, because at least her back didn’t ache nearly as much as it would have. That chair had chiropractor written all over it, and she was all about good posture and comfort.

Plus, this one swivelled. The other didn’t. Pretty much a deal-breaker there.

The light from her screen burned her eyes causing blotches of colour to blend into her vision and she shoved the heel of her hand into forehead, willing herself to carry on. Deep down she knew it was none of her business, and lord knows it wasn’t exactly her place to go digging, but the sheer abundance of cases springing up piqued her interest far too much for her to just let it slide.

She hadn’t heard from Oliver since earlier that morning but in her mind she was hoping that no news was good news. That was what people said, right? Yeah, she was sure everything was okay.

Or at least she hoped it was.

Flexing her fingers, Felicity danced her head from side to side, working out any kinks before they had the chance to root. With a few clicks across the keyboard she pulled up a map of the city, red dots signalling the homes of people who were experiencing withdrawal symptoms.

“It’s completely random,” she whispered to herself with a shake of the head, feeling somewhat deflated that the dots hadn’t magically revealed the answer to her. “Okay Smoak, time to think. Think, think, think…”

Her brain zoomed from one thought to the next.

And it kept doing that for ages – until one in particular struck her.

“What if they weren’t exposed at home…” she breathed, forehead pinched, “what about work…?”

Her hands typed away frantically, changing the criteria of her search to employment addresses and she watched as the dots blinked into different locations, the bones of a pattern finally eking its way out. It was a trail. A path through the city.

A finger followed the route in search for clues.

“59^th and Dale. 59^th and Dale,” she repeated as if it meant something.

And it did.

The day before, one of the guys in IT was badgering on about how people should get the flu shot – which had no impact on the blonde whatsoever because she hated needles and, well, all pointy things really – but Felicity distinctly remembered him saying that he got his at 59^th and Dale from one of those roaming flu trucks. And it just so happened that he was out sick.

That was the key. The flu vaccination.

Feeling a thrill of pride, Felicity pumped her hand in the air and shouted, “Yes!” - and then subsequently blushed in the privacy of her own office.

Leaning her elbows onto her desk, she perused the route, taking note that the truck was now downtown. Though she knew her immediate reaction should have been a call to the police, the thought of having actual evidence instead of just empty claims proved to be the dominant force in her mind. If she could get one of the syringes and then bring it to the police without causing too much disarray, then everyone would benefit. Plus leaving an anonymous tip with accusations like that would ultimately lead nowhere.

No, she could do this.

If it ended up being too risky, she’d back out of it as fast as she could.

That much she could do.

Minimizing her screen, she grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair and headed out the door on her own little mission.

---

“I’ve been thinking,” Oliver declared suddenly mid-bite into his burger.

“Well that’s an ominous statement if I ever heard one,” Felicity teased, spinning the straw of her milkshake around.

He lowered his food, tilting his head to the side. “You think you’re so funny, Smoak-”

“Oh I don’t think it; I know it,” she interjected, full beam on display. “But go on because I’m absolutely dying to know what you were thinking about,” she added sweetly, leaning forward onto the table.

Dropping the remains of his burger pack into its packet, he picked up a napkin and wiped his hands, feeling nervous all of a sudden. It shouldn’t have made him feel that way, and it wasn’t really a big thing per say, but he couldn’t deny the slight niggle at the back of his mind that she wouldn’t be exactly fond of his idea. It was almost a done deal really. Once Oliver had made his mind up all he had to do was talk to his parents and convince them that he was serious and that it was a decision made after much thought and consideration. They seemed happy enough to help him in this particular venture (they were probably just content that he had actually made a decision) – but it wasn’t really them he was worried about.

He cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious. There were a lot of people in Big Belly Burger; that was all he seemed to be able to focus on. It felt like every single person was waiting in anticipation for him to divulge all his secrets.

“It’s about what you were talking about a few weeks back…when you told me that I should start thinking about myself and what I want and about controlling my own future and stuff…”

“Yeah?” she prompted, her full attention all on him now. The corners of her lips curled upwards just slightly, the beginnings of her smile oddly comforting.

“I made a decision. I know what I want.”

“Well don’t leave me waiting in suspense, Oliver Queen!  Spill.”

Mirroring her, he folded his arms on to the table, body practically hanging off the edge of the seat as he rocked forward. “I know I always kind of avoid the topic of college but, you know, high school isn’t going to last forever and if I ever want to have some say in what I do for the rest of my life then I have to act soon. So I did. I picked a college.”

Felicity practically bounced out of her seat, her milkshake teetering dangerously from side to side with the momentum but luckily she caught it before it died in horribly splashy fashion. “Where?”

“Wait,” he laughed nervously, putting a hand up to ease her enthusiasm, “I just want to say that I put a lot of thought into this. I never realized how many things there were to think about when it came to making this kind of decision – or maybe that’s just me because I’ve barely had to make a decision for myself my whole life, spoiled rich kid and all that,” he laughed, dropping his eyes, “but when I put everything into context, it basically came down to one thing.”

She eyed him curiously, picking up on the serious shift in conversation. “Okay…”

Licking his lips, he inhaled deeply. “What I really want is to make my own decisions. And I know that when it comes to my education, studying business is the route I should take and will have to take whether I really want to or not, and maybe that’ll turn out to be the best thing I’ll ever do, but,” he quickly continued before she had time to comment, noting that he had to say it now or risk chickening out, “what I really decided on was…us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed breathlessly. “I want us, Felicity. All I’ve been hearing is people telling me that you don’t bring the girl with you to college, that it’s just high school and that we’ll grow up and move on and this will just be a memory – but I don’t want that. That’s the last thing I want. I don’t want us to break up just because it’s the norm; we’re not the norm. I don’t want to be thousands and thousands of miles away from you; I want to be next to you. Always.”

Though the sentiment obviously resonated with her, indicated by her soft blues, her eyebrows drew together immediately. “Oliver, I don’t really know what you’re trying to say here.”

“I’m saying that I want to study business at Harvard.”

Her eyes bulged. “Harvard?”

“Yeah.” The boy gulped. “I choose to do what my parents want me to do but I’m choosing it on my own terms. If I go to Harvard…we can still be us.”

In his mind this was a grand romantic gesture that would sweep her off her feet and result in declarations of love and excitement over a viable future together; in practice, however, he was beginning to think that his idealism had clouded his expectations.

“You can’t make a decision this big based on our relationship, Oliver. College is a major deal.”

“Felicity, I chose Harvard. One of the best colleges in the world. Decisions don’t get more major than that,” he retorted a little petulantly.

She ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it, and then, tentatively reached over and covered his hand with her own. “But you’ve chosen it for the wrong reason. This decision should be based on what Harvard has to offer you, what it can do for you, what you want to experience.” She sighed sadly, twisting her straw with her free hand. “You can’t just base it on what you feel right now. It’s a four year deal; you might feel differently in a few months and then it’ll be too late.”

“Felicity Smoak I cannot believe you think my feelings for you are that changeable. I’m actually hurt that you think so little of me.” When in doubt, go for that Queen charm.

“Come on, Oliver. Be serious.”

Except this time apparently.

Lacing his fingers with hers, he made sure to look her directly in the eye, hoping that every emotion that thrummed through him was somehow shining through his open expression. Of all the things for her to question he never once thought that his feelings for her would be called into play. Not when that’s the only thing he was definite about. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life. I want this. Harvard offers what I want and it allows me to be close to you, what’s so wrong with that?”

“I just don’t want you to…base something so pivotal in your life on something that, I don’t know, you might not consider that important in a few months, a few years…I mean, there are studies on how quickly the human mind changes it preferences and I’m pretty sure there are in depth essays written about the correlation between love and raging teenage hormones and-”

“Felicity,” he whispered, encroaching even further forward, their huddled forms creating their own little world outside of everything else, “in case you’ve forgotten, I love you. That’s not going to change. I don’t have to read text books to tell me how I feel; I know how I feel. And I’m telling you that what I feel for you isn’t a temporary passing thing. It’s real. It doesn’t matter how old we are or whether we’re supposed to branch out and try different things and see new people or whatever – we’re it. I know you know that.”

A flicker of fire flashed through her spheres, an unmistakable gleam making itself home there. Biting back her sheepish smile that was ever growing as he spoke was enough evidence for him. He knew she loved him. It was the only thing keeping him believing in miracles.

The blonde hummed, face stern all of a sudden. “It’s a tough school to get into, you know. They’re not just gonna let you walk in because your name happens to be Queen.”

 Her tone was lighter now he noted, and a pressure that neither of them seemed to notice before, lifted.

“Well, I have ways and means. And there’s talk about donating toward a new wing of the library…”

Felicity’s mouth formed an O. “Are you serious?”

“You bet,” he remarked wryly.

Her giggle radiated around them, settling down the tension, ironing out any wrinkles that had shown their faces. The sound was so full of hope, bursting with possibility and light and warmth and everything that he had ever wanted.

Lifting their intertwined hands, his girlfriend cocked her head to the side, the blush that had crept into her cheeks starting to fade. “I choose you too, by the way. Just for the record.” She beamed. “Always.”

---

He was pacing in the lair when he got the phone call. After injecting Digg with the serum, his partner had taken root by the computers, his body worn and beaten as the formula worked through his system and he only offered tight advice whenever Oliver happened to glance in his direction. The Arrow had rescued Adam Donner from The Count’s clutches earlier but was still nowhere close to figuring out how his foe was poisoning the city – and it infuriated him. He needed to be shut down and now.

The ring was harsh against the tense silence that enveloped the foundry but one look at the caller calmed Oliver. It was like a cool breeze on a sticky day. “Felicity,” he answered, stilling his movements. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Diggle sit up straighter, whatever attention he was capable of all on him at that moment. If he had the energy he probably would have cocked his eyebrow knowingly at the softer tone he employed when talking to her.

But it wasn’t the blonde’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Oliver? Is it okay if I call you Oliver?” the voice snarled through the phone, making the hair on the back of his neck rise. “Surprised to hear from me, right? Not as surprised as I was. You see, I find this not unattractive blonde getting all up in my business and what does she have on her? A Queen’s Consolidated I.D. badge.” Oliver closed his eyes as Felicity’s whimpers in the background amplified, striking through his heart one second at a time. Fury ripped through his entire frame, setting him alight. “Now, I think to myself: why does that name ring a bell? Oliver Queen! You tried to buy off me last year just before The Hood put me in a padded cell. Ipso facto:  Arrow!”

Oliver, in the blind rage that consumed him, hung up the phone and charged toward his Arrow suit, wasting no time in putting an end to this nightmare.

The Count wasn’t going to win. He wasn’t going to touch one hair on his Felicity’s head.

Oliver was going to damn well make sure of that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Text

It was dark and isolated.

That should have been Felicity’s first warning.

Nothing good ever came from dark, isolated places. She’d seen too many horror movies that proved that to be true. And in true horror movie stupidity, she wandered up to the lone flu truck, furtively glanced from side to side, knocked on the door and when no one replied, pulled at it only to discover that it was open. It was all just a little too easy, a little too convenient for her liking really. That should have been another sign.

Everything happened in a flurry all in the space of thirty seconds.

Locating the formula had been simple (there were rows of syringes lined up behind frosted glass that immediately caught the eye as soon as you entered the vehicle…talk about convenience) and just as Felicity slid the glass back to reveal the cascade of evidence and murmured the word, “Gotcha”, he spoke in a voice an octave higher than expected, causing her to jump and whirl around to face him in a fluster.

“Funny, you took the words right out of my mouth.”

He was a peculiar kind of man; almost comical in the way he held himself. Maybe even verging on cartoonish. He talked as though he was constantly on the cusp of singing, his movements embodying a musical quality – the combination perplexing and chilling all at once. Plus, he wore a trench coat. Who wore trench coats anymore? Subtlety was not what he was going for.

Somehow the blonde assumed that if faced with an obstacle like, say, a villain hell-bent on injecting a whole city with a dangerous drug, she’d react with a clear mind. You know, somehow slink her way out of trouble with a few words and a shove. In her mind it seemed like it would work, that she’d be the exception and rather than fall prey and allow herself to be dragged into a further web of trouble, she’d rise to the occasion and rescue herself. She was no damsel in distress. Sure she wasn’t the most skilled fighter – did one tae-kwon-do class when she was 15 count? – but she was almost positive that she’d hold her own if thrust into that kind of particular situation.

Obviously her idealism had reached dizzying levels.

She only had time to gulp before he happened upon her…

And then everything faded to black like the closing of a movie.

---

Pure terror: the only thing flooding through her entire body as she broke to the surface of consciousness.

Throat dry, tears pooled, lip quivering and The Count hovering over her like an ominous angel (and he was much more terrifying up close and personal), Felicity noticed that her coat had been discarded and her blonde hair, that had been put up in the tightest of ponytails – seriously it was like it was cased in plutonium – had been loosened to the point where tendrils flapped about her face and the tie was at the nape of her neck. And she was shaking, squirming against the zip-ties that sewed her to a chair.

She was at Queen’s Consolidated. Oliver’s office to be exact. The one whose view scanned over Starling City; a city that was bathed in vibrant light while she struggled in the dark room, the only light available to her coming from her phone that her assailant tossed from hand to hand with an impish smirk on his face. His breath came in long, measured puffs as though he was trying to keep his irritation at bay and every now and again, his neck twitched and in doing so, forced his whole frame to convulse for a nanosecond.

Tears gathered at the corners of her ears, the fear finally taking over. As much as she struggled and danced against the binds, there seemed to be no escape. She was trapped.

And maybe it was the adrenaline or perhaps just the reality of her plight setting in but she couldn’t keep her mind off stupid trivial things. Like…did she remember to turn the stove off? Or when did she eat last? Or why did she insist on wearing this dress?

Then, just as quickly, those thoughts were usurped by slightly bigger issues, like forgetting to buy that coffee maker for her house, or never getting around to booking a holiday off work or not visiting her mom enough.

And then Felicity heard his name.

Oh, Oliver.

The name snarled from her enemy’s lips, a malevolent grin curling onto his face as he took his feet down from the desk and sat forward in his chair. “Oliver? Is it okay if I call you Oliver? Surprised to hear from me, right?” The tone playful, he rose from his seat and cantered towards her. Felicity whimpered, struggling again, the heightened emotion of her predicament swelling with each drum of a second. “Not as surprised as I was. You see, I find this not unattractive blonde getting all up in my business,” he continued, running the tips of his finger down her arm, causing her to lose any semblance of control she had left. Tears shook from her eyes, her whole body shuddering under his touch. “And what does she have on her? A Queen’s Consolidated I.D. badge.” The badge, sitting idly on the desk, was snatched into his grip and left swaying in front of her face, “Now I think to myself: why does that name ring a bell?” He flung the object across the room. Felicity squeezed her eyes shut. “Oliver Queen! You tried to buy from me last year just before The Hood put me in a padded cell. Ipso Facto, Arrow!”

Her sobs intensified with his exclamation, heart hammering so much that she couldn’t hear anything else but the erratic thump, thump, thump smothering her senses.

A gun that had been on the desk, smiling sadistically at her since she had been tied up, swam into her eyeline. The Count chuckled in malicious delight at the terror so perfectly blazing in her depths, the shock taking over her frame to the point where she was sure she’d never get enough air to fill her lungs.

Suddenly he leaned over her, one hand covering hers in the process, mouth brushing the shell of her ear. Her hand stilled. “And now we wait for your friend to come to your rescue. If I were you, I’d pray he comes soon; I have a tendency to get bored very easily.”

And then the firearm was recklessly dangling in front of her face again, the barrel glaring at her as he swiped at a glass on the table and sent it shooting onto the ground in spectacular fashion. His lips snaked over his teeth, eyes wild with excitement.

Felicity gulped, her breath quaking violently as her mind tried and tried to grapple with what was going to happen.

Oliver was coming for her.

Oliver was The Arrow.

Oliver…Oliver was The Arrow.

The Arrow.

Oliver? Oliver.

Her Oliver.

Everything would be okay.

That she had to believe.

---

“Ah, Oliver. Come in, come in,” Mrs Smoak greeted, pulling open the door fully whilst manoeuvring her phone to her other ear. With a wave she beckoned for him to come inside.

Though he had met Felicity’s mother numerous times since they had got together, every time he came face-to-face with her he was on edge, fearful to say something that’d come across as impolite or give off some unruly impressions. It was no secret that Oliver Queen, even still a teenager, had quite the reputation in Starling City; Donna Smoak, albeit almost always preoccupied with work, was no fool.

About the same height as Felicity, Mrs Smoak had fair hair cut to just above her shoulders and was in killer shape. In fact, his girlfriend was pretty much a carbon copy of her mother.

“Here to see Felicity, I assume?” she asked him, moving her phone into her shoulder. Oliver nodded but before he could get a word out she was in full flight, “I honestly don’t know why that girl never answers the door when she hears the bell. She was obviously expecting you and you’re pretty much the only person who uses it anyhow so she really should be the one down here.” She sighed…or maybe just stopped to take a breath. It was hard to tell. “Yet still she locks herself away in her room of hers, planted in front of that computer screen as though she’ll find the meaning of life hidden in her codes or whatever it is she’s into. God help her when she goes to London and actually has to meet new people and socialize…FELICITY!” she yelled up the stairs, a boom so loud and abrupt that it made him start. “OLIVER’S HERE!”

And then something struck him. Brow furrowed, he scrunched his face in confusion and asked, “Wait…London?”  

The woman cocked her head to the side with raised eyebrows, studying him. “Of course. The MIT study abroad scholarship? Apparently, she was accepted. I’m sure she told you.”

You know those moments where you hear something that just makes your heart drop and you wish you could just un-hear it? That was Oliver Queen in that moment.

Actually he was certain he heard his heart crack in half.

Of course she got the scholarship; she was incredible.

Still he pushed the highly probable outcome aside and instead focused on the life they had planned together at Harvard and MIT – attending as many parties as they could, spending lunches and evenings together, getting an apartment together after they experienced their first year in the dorms, just being Oliver and Felicity. And now that future shook ferociously in front of him, the images blurring so much that they were indecipherable.

 She was leaving.

He was staying.

And she didn’t tell him.

“Oliver?” Her mother’s hand waved in front of his face, bringing him back to reality.

“What? Oh, yeah, of course she told me. Yeah it’s…it’s great. Really great. In fact, we’re going out to celebrate right now.” His sneakers squeaked against the floorboards. Even the house could read him like an open book.

Mrs Smoak, to her credit, narrowed her eyes knowingly for a millisecond before quickly resuming her blasé façade. Despite her tendency to leave Felicity to fend for herself and show next to no encouragement for her daughter’s passion, deep down he knew she didn’t really want her to go either. It was just the two of them after her dad left and even though they weren’t that close, they were all each other had. It was just a pity that she could never find a way to connect with Felicity.

“You know, for a girl who kicked up such a fuss about moving cities that are only a couple hundred miles apart, you’d think that she’d be a bit more freaked about the idea of moving continent. To be perfectly honest, I think she’s still in a state of shock. She hasn’t spoken much since she found out – which as you know is not something that ever happens.”

“She’s probably just processing. It’s a lot to take in. A big deal.”

A massive deal. Life-altering.

Too good an opportunity to miss.

The woman gave him a sad, knowing smile but Oliver couldn’t find it in himself to return the gesture. It was like all of his joy had been zapped from him.

Thumping from above distracted Donna from whatever it was that she wanted to divulge and instead of continuing the conversation, she took her daughter’s rather loud shuffling as a means to end their chat and finally went back to focusing on her phone call. A slight gesture with her hand, she stalked into the kitchen, her mother mode shifted to the backburner.

When Felicity emerged at the top of the stairs looking as beautiful as she did every day, Oliver mustered all the courage he had to block out the leeching disappointment that was spreading through him like spilled ink on a piece of paper and somehow twisted his face into something a little more person-friendly.

Though at a loss as to why she hadn’t brought it up, he figured she’d tell him on her own time - probably later that day.

Their date itself was normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Felicity wasn’t her usual bubbly, babbling self but she wasn’t off enough for it to be so noticeable.

…But she never mentioned London or MIT or college.

---

He had lost all sense of reason.

All that flowed through him was rage. And fear.

Somehow, vaguely, he could sense that he was shaking. His hands dancing so quickly that from a distance they looked to be perfectly fine but up close they looked to be on the cusp of ejecting themselves from his arm. His heart sped too fast, the thumping deafening in his ears, drowning out everything else.

His senses fell away to a nothing, all focus on getting her back.

No plan had been formed, no decisions made.

Hood down, his war paint nowhere to be seen; a warrior heading into battle without his mask. Because he wasn’t The Hood on a mission to save some innocent bystander who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time; he was Oliver Queen on his way to save the girl that he would do anything for. The girl he vowed to protect until his dying breath. The girl he loved.

His Felicity.

Each step was calculated, his legs tense so as to be as quiet as possible. The bow sat heavily in his hand as if it was itching to be loaded, ready to be used at any moment and never before had it felt like such an extension of himself.

Queen’s Consolidated hummed with tension, the air thick with uncertainty and he fidgeted, just about keeping his nerve in check as he approached the offices.

But then Oliver saw her.

Her expression so stricken, her frame so unstable, sheer terror twisted into every fibre of her being. In an instant, all of his rage centred and transformed into desperation. Any shade of doubt that coloured his thoughts washed away, determination firmly in its place.

Felicity’s eyes barely focused on him as though she were looking through him rather than at him. A myriad of emotions flickered across her face until they settled on something he couldn’t quite read, but whatever it was, it only served to fuel his intent.

The Count ran his grubby hands through her ponytail in a way that made his skin crawl. “Pretty swanky offices,” he remarked slyly. “You can see all the destruction your mom caused from up here.”

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“World peace and personal satisfaction…though,” his fingers danced across the blonde’s shoulders, slightly digging into the exposed flesh above the cut of her dress, and she whimpered in distress under his touch, “not necessarily in that order. You poisoned me and put me in a hole. You have no idea how much I hated you for that. Turns out someone else hates you, too.”

Oliver’s jaw clenched. “Who?” he hissed.

“Who?” the man repeated with a sadistic chuckle. “Oh you’re going to be surprised when you find out. He’s a man of means; set me up with my new operation so I could draw you out.”

His eyes barely ever left her face and every part of him ached for her; to comfort, to rescue, to save. The realization that he would do whatever it takes to keep her safe alighted every nerve-ending in his body, the itch to act gaining in intensity. “To do what?” he ground out.

“This!” The Count snatched at his pocket and revealed a gun, firing a couple of times in his direction, but Oliver, reading the psycho like a book, anticipated the turn and moved first, racing out of the room and hopping over some chairs in the process for cover.

A slice of pain tore through his upper arm but he easily ignored it. He wasn’t what mattered; she was. He had to keep his focus. “You’re gonna have to try harder.”

“Done!” Two more shots rang out, the bullets obliterating idle objects that lay near him.

The stalled silence that followed offered him the chance to make his move. His plan, or semblance of a plan, was shaky at best but if there was one he could do, it was fight.

In all of his aggravation, The Count cut Felicity’s ties and roughly hauled her to her feet by her hair. The woman let out choked cries as she was ushered across the room, one hand gripping the one he had around her.

Oliver then emerged from the darkness, his looming figure harsh against the shadows, bow nocked and ready to be fired at any given moment.

“So now we move onto Plan B!” The Count exclaimed malevolently when he caught sight of him. From under his coat he whipped out a syringe rich in the Vertigo formula, the amount enough to kill almost instantly, and suspended it roguishly around her neck. 

The Arrow’s blood ran cold.

No. God, please, no.

His bow began to shake in his hands.

And then she spoke, cutting through the cloud of fear that encompassed him. But her voice didn’t soothe him. No, rather it only swept a wave of fresh horror over him.  “Oliver, don’t! Not for me!”

His eyes narrowed in sorrow, helplessness consuming him.

Felicity! No!

“Quiet, please! I’m threatening.” Oliver pursed his lips, his heart beginning to hammer so hard that it was becoming more and more difficult to breathe. “Lower your bow,” the other man commanded.

Her blue depths met his for a flash of a second and he had no other choice but to obey him. The Count had the woman he loved literally in his hands, her life hanging in the balance – what else could he do? His shoulders dropped heavily, the air whooshing out of his lungs so fast that he was practically panting. He ignored the film of tears that covered his eyes.

The arrow that sat in his bow was removed and tossed to the side, the ping of its impact with the floor grating to the ears.

“Your problem is with me – it’s not with her!” Oliver cried, his voice verging on begging.

“Well consider this your penalty for making me go to Plan B in the first place-”

The second his nemesis moved to inject her with the serum, fury devoured him and without another thought, he snatched at his quiver and fired.

Three arrows perfectly embedded in the centre of his chest.

The action prompted Felicity’s release, her terrified self falling onto the floor. With each blow the man moved backward toward the window, the last one – the assured fatal hit – sending him crashing through the glass down to his death below.

It was over.

It took Oliver a moment to compose himself, his eyes closing as the relief sunk in. He had come unbearably close to losing her – to losing Felicity. Even to think such a thought caused his stomach to churn.

But she was safe.

She was safe and she was here.

And The Count was dead.

He had killed again. For her.

A breathy sniffle from mere feet away dragged him from his stupor and his blue orbs snapped onto her immediately, his body automatically moving over to her.

“Hey,” he soothed, reaching for her gently.

Her arm shot back instantly in fear, eyes unfocused.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he shushed. “You’re alright. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Breathing heavily, the woman met his gaze. “Oliver?” she posed thickly, eyebrows forging together.

The man swallowed hard. “It’s okay, Felicity. It’s okay,” he breathed uncertainly.

With that, her line of vision transferred to his arm. “You were shot.” Her trembling fingers gingerly grazed the wound the bullet had made.

His hand came up to cup the side of her face, the touch compelling her to look at him once again. “It’s nothing,” he assured her. “We’re okay.”

A fresh bout of tears threatened to fall but, in her apparent relief, she forced a smile, somehow finding solace in his calm assurance. “Okay,” she affirmed, her voice barely audible.

Oliver wasn’t stupid; he knew there were so many things they needed to talk about but right there, in that moment, both of them just needed the comfort of the other. The time for talking was for later.

Moving slowly and deliberately, he leaned in and kissed her forehead, lingering there a few seconds after.

She didn’t pull away.

---

“I got here as soon as I could,” Tommy declared. The boy shuffled in from the door to flop onto the bed that Oliver was currently lying on with an arm draped over his face. A few seconds of silence passed and then, “Wow, not even a greeting…this must be bad. Is it your dad?”

Beneath the shadows of his arm, Oliver winced, his breath coming out as a stutter. He hated dealing with anything to do with his emotions but this was a desperate time and desperate times called for his best friend. “Felicity’s leaving,” he murmured into the fabric of his sweater.

“Leaving? Leaving what?” The surprise was evident in his voice. Clearly, he didn’t think she’d be the topic of conversation.

“Leaving Starling. Leaving…me.”

“Whoa, she broke up with you?! Dude, what the hell happened? What did you do?”

Oliver slowly dragged himself upright, pushing himself back into the headboard. Shooting Tommy a disgruntled glare (of course his friend would think he had done something to drive her away), he then fixed his stare straight ahead of him. “I didn’t do anything,” he defended, tired, “and we haven’t broken up…not yet anyway.” He drew in a deep breath. “But she’s moving to London for college.”

“London? But what about MIT? I thought you guys had your whole futures mapped out.”

“She won a scholarship with MIT that allows her to study in Europe,” he recited as if from a screen in front of him. “So any plans we had don’t matter anymore.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Whoa, that’s…that’s huge. She’s definitely going? What did she say when she told you?”

The boy clucked his tongue, hating the feeling that nestled in his chest. He hated everything about the way he’d been feeling since the moment he found out. He just…hated it all. “She hasn’t told me yet.” He glanced at his best friend. “Her mom was the one who let it slip – because she obviously assumed that I already knew.”

His bitterness lingered in the air for a few unsavoury seconds, the other boy nodding his head in understanding.

“When did you find out?” he asked quietly.

“2 weeks ago. And Felicity hasn’t said a word about it. I’ve seen her almost every day-”

“And not a word?”

Oliver shook his head.

“Maybe she’s not going?” he offered hopefully. “Maybe her mom just assumes she is but she’s gonna go to MIT like she planned?”

A part of him, selfishly so, wished that were true. That Felicity would toss the Europe rumours out the window by declaring that he and MIT were all that she wanted. That their plans, that their future was set in stone. Solid. Unchangeable. And everything would just change organically in the way it ultimately had to and that they, in their own way, would change along with it as a team, growing ever stronger for it.

Oliver was never a wisher, really. He had everything he could have ever dreamed of. He wanted for nothing.

But right then, God he wished that this wasn’t happening. Because no matter how much he was hurting, he knew that she had to go. Felicity came first; her hopes and aspirations were more important than their relationship – he knew that.

It didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt like a bitch though.

“No,” he whispered, pursing his lips. “She has to take this. The scholarship, studying in Europe - it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. People…” he sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, making it transform into funny shapes, “they would kill for that chance. Broaden your horizons, experience new cultures, meet new friends you’ll have for life. I looked it up online,” he tagged on when his best friend shot him a dubious look. “She has to go.”

“I’m sorry, Oliver.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“But hey,” he punched his arm, “this doesn’t mean that you guys have to break up. Long-distance, man. People do it all the time.”

“I don’t know, Tommy. This whole thing – it kinds feels like a sign.”

“For what?”

He laughed humourlessly. “I wish I knew. Everyone says you don’t take the girl with you when you go to college. You move on, meet other people, life continues. I think I’ve just been kidding myself the whole time. I really thought we were it. And…and I guess I was wrong.”

Any other futile, empty words of encouragement that Tommy imparted disintegrated the moment they hit his eardrum, the irritating platitudes having little to no success in helping him deal with the situation.

He just wanted to know what to say, or how to act, or figure out how to think straight. It was as though he was lost in a maze with every turn, every opening, proving useless.

Never before had he ever felt like this. This was something else entirely.  Something he was sure he’d never really comprehend. And maybe he never wanted to.

They do say there’s nothing more painful than the pain of heartbreak.

 

Chapter Text

Not one word passed Felicity’s lips the whole way back to the lair. He could feel her staring at him, feel the questions, feel the burning anger, feel the confusion and the disbelief sure, but God he wished she’d just say something. Even if it was just a scream. Just something that gave the tiniest bit of insight into what was going on in that mind of hers.

A silent Felicity was not something he was used to and generally it meant bad things. Silence meant she was lost in her own thoughts; pondering, connecting the dots, placing all the pieces together into one form-fitting jigsaw.

And possibly coming up with multiple ways to yell at him.

Because that was what he expected. And, truthfully, believed he deserved. Screaming and crying and stomping and storming and flailing arms. A torrent of emotion.

Even when he guided her down the steps below Verdant, her frame still shaky from her encounter, barely any acknowledgement sounded from her. Her blue eyes scanned the area, taking in every detail, her stare lingering on the computer system for several very long beats and by the way they seemed to squint almost accusatory, Oliver knew that she did not approve of the IT part of his crusade. No doubt she was taking stock of that particular piece of information too. Great.

Diggle was there to meet them, looking like hell, but looking stronger too, somehow. It would only be a matter of hours before the Applied Sciences division would finish formulating a non-addictive treatment from the Vertigo-tainted vaccine he managed to deliver anonymously before they made it back to the lair. And good thing too because no matter how tough his friend was both physically and mentally, Oliver knew he was in intense pain.

John examined the two of them, questions practically radiating from his gaze, but he remained silent.

Felicity moved away from Oliver the second she could, planting herself in front of the computer, her back facing the two men. Even though she was only a few feet away from him, he felt her trying to place more distance between them.

It was as if she was thousands of miles away and there was nothing he could do to bridge the gap.

“Is she okay?” Diggle whispered to him.

Shaking his head, the adrenaline beginning to leave his body, he fixed his eyes on her again. “I don’t know. It was…it was a close one tonight.”

The other man nodded in understanding. “You were shot,” he commented.

“It’s just a graze.”

“Still, you should clean it up. Maybe get out of your suit,” he offered, signalling to the blonde.

His suit? He forgot he was wearing it.

“Right,” he acknowledged. “You should go home, get some rest. I’ll drop by with the formula as soon as I get it.”

“You sure?”

Oliver couldn’t keep his eyes off Felicity. “I’m sure.”

“Alright, man. You go ahead and sort yourself out. I’ll make sure she gets a drink.”

He smiled in gratitude. “Thanks, Digg.”

---

Luckily the graze wasn’t as bad as he had initially thought and it didn’t take long to clean the wound and bandage it up, but he couldn’t bring himself to go out and face her just yet.

What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to explain everything?

Lying to Felicity wasn’t something he did often and though he knew the reasons behind why he didn’t let her in to this part of his world, he assumed she wouldn’t see it that way. This was a huge secret to just come unravelling out in front of him. But he didn’t have a choice – The Count would have killed her.  He was never going to let that happen. Protecting Oliver Queen, protecting his alter-ego wasn’t top priority. Felicity was. And, when he really thought about it, when wasn’t she?

He looked at himself hard in the mirror. He looked tired. Weathered. Worn.

He couldn’t have been more removed from the Oliver she knew all those years ago.

Realistically he knew that happened as time went by: people got older and they changed. It was a law of nature.

But can they really change that much? Shouldn’t there still be something, some remnant of their past self still there?

Bowing his head, Oliver willed himself to back away from the mirror.

His muscles were stiff from the events of the night and he found himself trudging out to meet her, his body almost refusing to go through with this.

The blonde had turned around now, her back to the screens, seemingly waiting for him. They stayed quiet a little longer, a distant whirr from the generator the only sound to fill the void.

“Where’d…?” He pointed to the grey blanket now draped around her like a safety net.

Finally she met his blues. Finally he could see the hurricane swirling so clearly, so boldly in hers. He swallowed hard, the ache in his chest impossible to ignore.  Anger he could deal with; but what he saw, the hurt so evidently painted on her face for only him to see? That was so much harder.

“Digg gave it to me before he went home,” she explained lowly.

“Oh okay. Good.”

More staring. Or maybe it was more glaring.

“So…you’re The Hood.”

He squared his shoulders. “Yes.”

“You zipline through the city at night wearing a green hood and arrowing bad guys like some kind of one-man crime solution.”

“I-”

“Oliver I know I should be thankful for you saving my life and believe me I am – I mean I really am – but there’s just a lot of things going through my mind right now and I just-”

“I understand.”

She laughed once but without humour. It was dark and pained. “No, you don’t. You think you do but you don’t. Did I have my suspicions? Yeah maybe I did because mysteries bug me and you’re always popping in and out with weird requests and dashing around like some kind of skilled assassin but never in my wildest dreams did I ever think you capable of this. Not my Oliver. Not the Oliver I knew.”

“That’s because I’m not the Oliver you knew!”

Felicity pulled up at his outburst, cheeks flushed. Tears filled her eyes and the lump in his throat intensified.

The words rushed out of him before he could stop himself.  An explosion of truth.  Hadn’t he been saying that from the start? Hadn’t he tried to explain that he was different, that a darkness had settled over him long ago and any hope of escaping its clutches had vanished the second he decided that his life would be better lived alone and under the shadow of a hood?

No longer was he Oliver Queen. He was damaged. Broken. Someone else; something else.

“Can’t you see that, Felicity?” he whispered. “I was gone. I…” he set his jaw, desperately trying to keep his emotion in check, “I spent five years in hell. Five years where nothing good happened! I came across things that just…defied explanation. I experienced every kind of pain you can imagine. Those things change a person.” He sniffed, angered at how badly he was holding it together. One glance at her told him that she wasn’t doing a good job of it either. “Sometimes I can’t breathe when I think about it. Sometimes I can’t even eat. I can’t sleep. It’s like - like I don’t even know how to function normally. I go about my day and I wear a smile and I lean on these little instincts I still have somehow just to get me through but every part of me knows that I belong here anymore. I don’t belong in this world anymore, Felicity; I’m not…I’m not me.”

His words punched the air and died. Both of them stood, staring but not really looking at one another. There was too much space between them but neither one moved.

It took her a few more seconds to respond, her fingers gripped into the blanket as though it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Oliver…then why do this? Why be The Arrow?”

 “The Arrow?” he posed dubiously.

“It’s a much better name,” she stated, matter-of-factly. “More heroic. ‘The Hood’ is too menacing.”

“I’m not a hero,” he insisted strongly, visibly annoyed.

She was the first to take a step forward. “What do you call what you do then? Stopping bad guys and helping innocent people without wanting any recognition? Sounds like a hero to me.”

The man dropped his head, hands raking through his curt hair. “Didn’t you hear a word I said? Do you see these hands?” He lifted them in front of her face, palms facing her. “These hands have killed people. They have taken lives.  When I was away it was kill or be killed – that was how I survived and that was how I started this whole thing. I was bloodthirsty. I had no time for people to repent – I just took the shot.” His breathing turned laboured, hands shaking violently. So enthralled by his display, Felicity grabbed his hands to steady him, a gesture made to urge him to continue, to release whatever it was that was eating him up. Her hands were soft and lost within his but her thumbs ran along the lines of his palms, instantly soothing his turbulent frame. His gaze became pleading.

“I was just so consumed,” he continued, gulping, “with putting an end to all the corruption and the evil and the injustice that is running rampant in this city that the body count didn’t matter. Because the people that I faced never showed remorse. They never cared. And I guess that over time I stopped caring about what happened to them. And that makes me just as bad as them.”

The blonde nodded in understanding, letting her own tears flow unabashedly. “But something changed. You changed. You do care because you stopped killing people. What happened?”

A heavy sigh sagged from him. “Tommy died,” he choked out. “He found out about me and for a while he didn’t approve of what I was doing, but before he died he told me that I had the chance to...”

“To what?”

He closed his eyes. “To be a hero.”

“And you did. You became a hero. You are saving this city, Oliver Queen.”

The conviction in her tone was impossible to ignore, her belief was so strong that he could almost let himself believe. Even for the fleetest of instances, he allowed himself to see himself the way she did and he wished he could bask in that assurance forever. But his demons were never quiet for long and he knew all too well that it would only be a matter of time before they whispered in his ear and everything would turn into an ambiguous haze once again. Doubt was his master, slavery to the darkness his purpose.

It was a form of self-sabotage that he had acquired over the years that never seemed to fail him.

“I don’t feel like one.”

Felicity’s eyes softened, shining with an emotion he couldn’t read, chipping away at his armour.

“I honestly can’t imagine how you feel, Oliver,” she said quietly with a shake of her head. “I don’t think that I could ever fully comprehend what you went through the time you were away, and I know you think that you don’t belong but that’s wrong. You’re wrong. Somebody who has faced all of those things and came out stronger and decided to use that strength to save his city…well, he definitely belongs. He hasn’t lost himself; he’s just trying to find himself. His soul hasn’t darkened; it’s burning brighter than ever before. His heart beats louder and with more purpose. He thinks he’s broken, but he tries effortlessly to fix others. He’s selfless. And kind. He wants to protect the defenceless. To right the wrongs. He is a hero.”  

A tentative hand loosened its grip on his and instead found a home over his heart. The move surprised him and he couldn’t help but fixate on it as it laid there, rising and falling with his breaths.

He cleared his throat after the silence prolonged. “I thought you were mad at me,” he implored.

“Oh I am mad. I mean, what you are doing is reckless and stupid and you’re only one man and it’s not like you’re wearing a metal suit or anything – what is up with the green leather anyway? It looks good and I’m sure it’s practical but it just looks so tight – not that I’ve noticed but you know, it’s not that hard to notice and I’m going to stop talking about your outfit right now…” She clamped her lips close so that no other words could tumble out of them until she got her bearings. Then, “And you’re using a bow and arrow…exactly what part of that plan sounds like a good idea?” she rambled, inviting a smirk from him. Her eyebrows suddenly knitted together. “But I’m not mad that you’re The Arrow; I’m mad that life happened. I’m mad that in what is relatively a short amount of time, so much has happened. Too much has happened. We’re not who we were. I know, technically, we’re not supposed to be but it’s just when you think about it, it’s hard to think that it was us all those years ago, you know what I mean? It’s kind of like having memories of other people. I just wish I had known. I wish I could have helped you.”

Now she was only talking to herself but her fingers started to draw nonsensical patterns on his chest and he didn’t want to break the spell.

“I wish I could change how things ended between us. You have to know that I loved you.”

Her head rose slowly. “Did you?

“More than you know.”

“You broke my heart.”

“I know.”

She smiled sadly, cracking his resolve. “Why?”

What could he say? “I had to,” he breathed.

She frowned. “Oliver, I don’t understand.”

“You should go home, you need to sleep. It was a rough night.”

He broke free from her hold to grab his own grey hoodie that lay sloppily the edge of the table.

And just like that the spell was broken.

“Oliver?”

He turned back to face her. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

A small smile formed on his face. “Yeah, of course.”

“And I’m sorry.”

That caught him off-guard. He moved closer to her again. “For what?”

“I got myself into trouble and you…killed him. You killed again and I’m sorry that I was the one who put you in a position where you had to make that kind of choice.”

“Felicity,” he said in that tone he only reserved for her, reaching out to take one of her hands again, “he had you and he was gonna hurt you. There was no choice to make.”

Throwing any caution he had to the wind, he pulled her to him and kissed her forehead, needing the physical contact to calm him again. He had almost lost her tonight and the memory of that was going to haunt his dreams for many nights to come. She relaxed under his touch, her other hand clasping at his t-shirt and he could have stayed there forever.

But Oliver was the first to break away, needing to put distance between them. There was still a lot to talk about and it wasn’t the right time, and Felicity seemed to come to the same conclusion. Removing the blanket from her shoulders, she wrapped it around the chair by the computers.

Lingering there, hands gliding along the keyboard, she looked back at him. “Your system looks like it’s from the 80s - and not the good part of the 80s like Madonna and, well, legwarmers. Seeing it this poorly set up hurts me in my soul. If it’s okay with you I’d like to upgrade it to this century…?”

Oliver hesitated. Could he let her in on his mission? Risk putting her in danger? It was only a computer system after all; it’s not like she was asking to put on a suit and go out fighting crime with him…

“You know what, never mind. We’ll talk about it some other time,” she rushed, looking self-conscious.

He offered her a warm smile as she gathered up her things. “Goodnight, Felicity.”

Coat draped over her arm and bag over her shoulder she ambled over to him, soft lips pulled into a shy smile. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“About what?”

 “My Oliver would do something like this. Goodnight.” She moved past him and made her way up the stairs, the clacking of her heels echoing around the cave.

Oliver felt a wave of warmth wash over him. His heart seemed to beat to the sound of a new rhythm – a rhythm he could get used to.

---

Felicity had been way too quiet all day. Ever since Oliver picked her up at noon she’d barely engaged in conversation with him. Even when made endless, pointless small talk (Felicity really hated small talk) she hardly responded. He couldn’t help but let his mind jump to the worst possible conclusion and as the date went on, and she became less responsive and more introspective, he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“You’ve been quiet,” he remarked off-hand, trying to act casual as they dug into their burgers. In silence.

The blonde jerked her head up. “No I haven’t,” she retorted in defence.

Oliver smirked, raising a wry eyebrow.

“I passed comment on that weird cloud on the way here,” she continued, licking her lips self-consciously. “And I, you know, mentioned the fact that I like the shirt you’re wearing today…”

“You didn’t mention anything about my shirt.”

“I didn’t? Well, it looks really good on you. Actually, everything looks really good on you so it’s not all that surprising – I mean, you could wear a plastic bag and it’d still look hot.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “You’d think that after all this time I’d be able to separate my inner thoughts from my outer but hey here we are.”

That invited a smile from him. He could listen to her ramble all day long, even if it was a little devoid of its usual zest.

“How’s your burger?” he asked just as she murmured, “I have something to tell you.”

Both of them stared at one another for a few long beats as if trying to read the other one’s mind.

Felicity peered at him sheepishly but Oliver remained calm and blank. Unreadable.

He could feel it coming. The words were gonna come swimming out of her mouth in a rush and once they were said, there’d be no going back, no pretending it wasn’t real or ignoring it in the hope that it would just disappear. That would it be it. They’d be over.

No more Oliver and Felicity.

He could take it. It was for the best. She needed to go to London with a fresh start, a clean break, new perspective. She was going to realize her full potential. She was going to change the world. That Oliver truly believed. And there was no way he was going to stand in the way of that.

If they were meant to be like he believed they were, they would find their way back to each other. That’s what people said, right? That if two people truly belonged together they’d somehow, by fate or design or God or whatever, follow their roads back to one another again?

Oliver had to believe in that. That was the only way he could stomach the fact that he couldn’t jump in his car and drive to see her. Or call her when he was feeling under pressure. Or just be with her, anytime, anyplace. He wouldn’t be able to hold her hand, or kiss or hug her, or watch her eyes light up when she’s talking about something she loves.

A huge part of him – the selfish part - was still bitter though. Bitter that she was leaving, and essentially leaving him, and that he’d have to start from scratch all over again in a new place without her or Tommy. He’d be alone.

Oliver didn’t really do well with being alone.

And even just the thought of it tugged at his heart.

Felicity drew in a deep breath. And then took a large sip of her drink. And then drank in a deep breath again.

He waited.

He hoped it would be a quick break-up; a few sentences that would really hurt, maybe a short emotional goodbye and that’d be it. Honestly he was glad she was the one initiating it. He didn’t trust himself to do it were it left to him.

He just needed it to be quick.

“I got that scholarship,” she said slowly as if she was testing out the words. “You know, the one that allows me to study in Europe. Well, London to be exact. But anyway…yeah…I got it.”

A small smile formed on his face because despite it all he was still proud of her. She should know that.

“That’s amazing, Felicity. I knew you would.”

The blonde straightened then, head cocked as she examined him. Suddenly her eyes narrowed and Oliver shuffled uncomfortably at the abrupt scrutiny. Several seconds passed and then a quiet gasp tumbled from her.

“You knew,” she stated.

“What?”

“You knew!”

“I-”

“You already knew I got it! How did you know?”

Scratching the back of his head, the boy pursed his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Cut the crap Oliver,” she interjected. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Felicity I’m not lying-”

“Oliver! Please,” she pleaded, eyes closed. “How did you know?”

He sighed, surrendering. “Your mom told me.”

Jaw clenched, she asked, voice hard, “When?”

“About a month ago.”

If she was angry before, she was furious now. Her face now a bright shade of pink- but that also could have been because she had started crying, the fury emanated from her petite frame in waves, forcing Oliver to eek backwards ever so slightly.

“I cannot believe she told you!”

The outburst so loud, a few people in their vicinity actively focused their attention on them, seemingly rapt with what was happening in front of them.

Felicity either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Her emotions were fluctuating from anger to hurt and back again. Nothing else seemed to matter.

“She thought you had already told me. She assumed you would have told me as soon as you found out. And to be honest I assumed the same.”

“Really? You’ve known about this for over a month and you didn’t say anything and now you’re trying to, what, turn this back on me?” she accused, hurt blazing from her every pore. “It was my news to tell. Not hers. I decide who I want to tell and when I want to tell. Did you ever stop to think that I hadn’t made my mind up? That I was figuring out what I really wanted? I was going to tell you when I was ready, Oliver.”

Oliver dug the heel of his hand into his forehead in frustration. Yeah maybe he should have told her but he couldn’t shake the fact that she had some news – pretty major news – and didn’t tell him. If she didn’t tell him something like this, who knew what else she’d keep from him. The idea that she didn’t trust him, or worse, that he couldn’t trust her kept running around circles in his mind and he was just tired with the whole debate.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, taking the tone of the conversation, or perhaps it was more of an argument, down. “I am, I’m just…I thought I would be the first to know. Well after your mom anyway. And when you didn’t tell me and weeks went by…” he paused, giving her sad smile, “…I just didn’t know where we stood.”

The blonde dropped her shoulders, all her chagrin dissipating with that one move.

“I’m sorry, too. I just had a lot of thinking to do.”

“It’s a big change but it’s gonna be amazing, Felicity. It is.” He forcibly broadened his smile, trying so hard to be enthused. “You’re gonna experience actual British things – and not just the stuff that we see on TV that we think are British – but like, real, authentic British things. You’ll be surrounded by people who have the strangest accents and oh, you’ll get to eat fish and chips! And walk on cobblestones! Even though you can probably do that here somewhere but you know, they’ll be British cobblestones and-”

“Oliver I’m not going.”

His faux-enthusiasm deflated leaving only perplexity in its wake. “Wait…what? Of course you’re going.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I don’t understand; how can you not be going? This is an incredible opportunity and you wanted to do it - you filled in the application, you wrote the essay, you got esteemed references. All that was left to do was to get accepted and you did, Felicity. You got accepted. They want you.”

“I know Oliver but I’m not sure that I want that anymore.” She began toying with the wrapper from her burger. “When I got the letter it became real, you know? This isn’t just moving across country; this is moving across the world. By myself. I mean, I know that I have a pretty good sense of direction and I always have access to Google Maps so it’s not like I’ll need to buy one of those ridiculously huge and over-priced topical maps or anything but it’s a new place and I could still get lost and I won’t know anybody – did I mention that? Like, I’ll be totally alone. Short blonde girl with glasses who looks younger than her eighteen years alone in a different country –doesn’t that just sound like the plotline to a terrible horror movie? I will not be a plotline to a terrible horror movie, Oliver.”

“Felicity-”

“And what if I go there and my roommate is obnoxious? What if she hates me? What if I’m not able for the workload or my professors don’t like me? What if I have to join a club? You know I can’t play sports. What if-”

“Felicity look at me,” he declared in exasperation. Though he found her ramblings adorable and endearing, he couldn’t let her ramble down a rabbit hole of ‘what-ifs’. The blonde slowly met his gaze. “None of that stuff matters. You know why?” She shook her head lightly. “Because this scholarship is everything you’ve worked for. All that extra-credit work you did in school, all those hours you put in coding – they led to this. You know how this looks on a resumè. You know that this will help you so much in your career later on. Other people who’ve won this scholarship have gone on to start their own businesses. They’ve made waves in the tech world.”

“How do you know that?” she questioned.

He ducked his head. “I may have read up about it.”

“Well I know all that. But…it doesn’t change my mind. I’m not going.”

“You need to be reasonable about this,” he countered, feeling a little bewildered by this but more irritated because of how determined she seemed.

“I don’t want to be reasonable. I want to be eighteen. I want to stick to the plan.”

The plan. Their plan. MIT and Harvard.

Realization dawned on him.

This was about them.

She wasn’t breaking up with him; she was making sure they weren’t breaking up.

“Felicity…”

Oliver didn’t know what to say. He could have called her out on it, told her how ridiculous she was being, maybe throw in the long-distance idea to appease her, but he couldn’t get the words out. They lodged themselves firmly in his throat, refusing to see the light of day. This was his chance to pull the band-aid off, cut the cord, finish it before it got harder.

Yet nothing came out.

How do you break up with the girl of your dreams, the girl you love?

Oliver couldn’t.

She had to be the one to make the decision.

She had to end them because he never would. 

Startling him out of his reverie, Felicity reached across the table and tangled her fingers with his. Her skin was so soft, and he remembered thinking the same thing the very first time he had ever held her hand. He didn’t know that day would have led them to here, to almost two years of being together and being in love. And now maybe all of it was about to go away.

Life had a funny sense of humour.

“Can we just pretend this conversation didn’t happen? I want to enjoy the rest of today, okay?” his girlfriend implored, voice thick with emotion as though she could sense his melancholy thoughts.

Another question. Another chance to do what he believed needed to be done.

Another time he couldn’t.

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

He smiled and so did she but neither of them reached their eyes.

And to him that was the saddest part.

 

Chapter Text

Oliver ignored the calls from the other side of the room, focusing his attention on finding Tommy. Only Tommy Merlyn would be impossible to find at his own party. He had arrived late and to be honest, he wasn’t planning on going at all. Were it not for Tommy’s incessant whining he would have just stayed at home, watched a movie with Thea, and drowned out the threat of the future with cookie dough and root beer. Because he was so wild these days.

But Oliver Queen couldn’t be seen not showing his face at a graduation party. At the graduation party. And of course he knew that – one was not brought up in money and unaware of the cost of appearance; showing one’s face at a function of any size was of the utmost importance. That lesson had been drilled into him since he was a child. So he put on a shirt, combed his hair, and dragged himself out of his room.

There must have been hundreds of people crammed into the Merlyn Mansion and every one of them insisted on stopping him in his tracks to say hi or ask where Felicity was or just generally squawk pointless platitudes at his face because it was the end of the school year, the end of an era and all that crap they’ve been spoon-fed since they started high school four years ago. Truth be told, Oliver didn’t know half of their names. And he was pretty sure that a lot of them didn’t even go to the same school as him. They were just faces. But, digging deep, he offered smiles and responses as he passed, even though he just didn’t want to be there. Felicity was still on this ‘I’m not moving to London kick’ and Oliver was just plain miserable under the weight of guilt he felt. He didn’t know what to do. He needed to let her go, he needed to make sure that he didn’t stop her from following her dreams, but…God he just didn’t know how. He didn’t want to live his life without her.

And all that made him terrible company, really.

It took him twenty minutes to find Tommy who, naturally, was in the middle of giving a number of girls from their class a tour of his house, and then it took a whole thirty seconds to decide that he was better off leaving him to it. His best friend was in the throes of dazzling them with his Merlyn charm and dousing them with story upon story of ‘this time’ and ‘that time’ and every other ‘time’. All Oliver could do was smirk from a distance...and walk off in the other direction.  

Somebody, anybody really, would be able to vouch for his presence at the party so he was a free man with the power to leave. He went, showed his face, smiled and left. Seemed good enough.

Unlike everybody there, Oliver wasn’t looking forward to leaving school. Sure, he wasn’t fond of the whole school thing and while he did get more serious about his studies after he met Felicity, he always knew that academics were not his strong suit. Sometimes he thought that if his life were different, if his parents weren’t multi-billionaires but modest workers who lived in a regular sized house and spent the weekends together and didn’t have black and white hopes for his future, that maybe he’d give something like architecture a go; or maybe he could be into politics.

The sky could be the limit.

But in reality his sky was much lower. So much lower. The future wasn’t bright and sparkly and glittering with excitement and prospect; it was grey and bleak and predictable.

Navigating the mansion, eyes admiring, for what felt like the very first time, the wood panelling and art pieces that dotted the walls, the atmosphere humming in anticipation, jovial laughs exploding all around him, Oliver felt his heart grow heavy with dread.

Was this how his life going to end up? Living in an over-sized house, surrounded by people he didn’t know or care for, expensive abstract paintings splashed around the hallways, working, working, working to make more money?

How did that seem fair?

“Oliver?”

He spun around at the sound of her voice. It was only then that he realized he had stopped walking.

“Are you okay? You’ve been staring at that picture for ages.”

Laurel placed a hand in the crook of his arm, concern etched into her brow. He wondered what his face looked like and attempted to school it in a more neutral position. It was weird to see worry in the eyes of someone other than his family or Felicity, and that thought jerked him back to the present.

“Yeah,” he finally said, mustering up the smallest smile. “Yeah, I was just trying to figure it out, that’s all. I don’t think I’ve ever properly looked at it and I’ve been in this house probably more than my own.”

“It’s nice isn’t it?” she said, sidling up beside him. The clusters of people shimmied around them, mildly annoyed by their infringement in the corridor. “I love the colours.”

The colours? Yeah the red was nice, he guessed. But he was more intrigued by the shapes and the way they overlapped and slotted around one another to make this one big confusing, perplexing mess that had his heart thumping. Who knew a picture could make you feel that way.

Yet instead of extending his interest and carrying on the conversation with a deeper overtone, Oliver merely said, “Me too.”

An awkward silence enveloped their little bubble and Oliver felt the need to keep the conversation going even though the last time they had properly spoken had been months, if not years ago, and it provided a definite and absolute end to any kind of romantic possibility between the two of them. He remembered her acting a little scorned at his honesty and remembered how he wished that it had been different. He had been crushed out on Laurel Lance since he was a kid. She was always so pretty but in an unassuming way; she preferred to wear sneakers and jeans rather than the dresses her sister, Sara, always wore; she liked sports and going to the movies and had her own goals and ambitions from a really early age. To him, she was the perfect girl. And then when he finally got her, she wasn’t anymore. Bottom line: they just didn’t work. There was no big epiphany or moment of sheer clarity; Oliver just knew that they weren’t meant to be. It just seemed so obvious.

To him, anyway.

Her, not so much.

And then he met Felicity and everything became so much clearer.

He crossed his arms. “How are you, Laurel?”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, inhaling deeply and slowly. “I could say I’m fine. I could,” she started, almost to herself than to him, “but then I’d be lying. I’ve been dreaming about college for as long as I can remember. Law school. Starting up my own law firm. Maybe being District Attorney one day. Making a difference. And now I’m graduating from high school and as soon as the summer starts I’m going to be looking for an apartment and moving away from home…” she paused, drinking in her own words. “Do you ever just feel like everything is flying toward you and you’re trying to catch it all, take it all in but there’s just so much going on that you just…can’t? Like you’re not prepared enough? Or able for it?” He hummed in affirmation, encouraging her to go on. “I’m excited about my future, I am, but I’m scared, too. I never imagined it’d all go by so quickly.”

“What, high school?”

“All of it. It kind of feels like we have to grow up now, you know? I just thought I’d be ready for it, that I’d feel less like a kid and more like an adult. But to be honest Ollie, I don’t know if I can do it. How am I supposed to do it? Grow up, move away? When did it all start becoming so…real?”

It was the first time Oliver had ever heard the force that was Laurel Lance sound so insecure. She was usually the picture of calm assurance, so sure in every movement she made, so steady in herself and her ability. And here she was standing in front of him petrified just like the rest of them.

“I wish I was more like Sara,” she continued, turning into him. “She’s always so carefree. Like she hasn’t a care in the world. She breezes in and out, takes everything as it comes, refuses to plan and just seems so much more at peace. Like, without having anything planned she’s in more control – does that even make sense?” she tagged on with a quiet laugh.

Oliver nodded, puffing a laugh through his nose. Everyone knew the Lance sisters were exact opposites; Laurel, the uptight brunette and Sara, the blithe blonde. “I know what you mean,” he replied. “But Laurel, for what it’s worth, I think you’re going to be fine. Great, even. You excel at everything you do; you’re driven and determined and crazy ambitious. You are going to do all those things and more with your life. Of that I’m so sure. The world is ready for Laurel Lance. And you’re ready for it.”

A true genuine smile broke out on her face, her eyes glazing over in a film of unshed tears. He couldn’t help but smile back, happy that he seemed to offer her something that she needed. It felt good to make someone else feel just that little bit better.

“You know Ollie, you’ve really become the guy I always hoped you could be.”

Before he knew what was happening her arms were around him, pulling him in for a hug. Surprised and just plain reacting, he did the same, not really leaning too much into it but being present enough for her to grip that little bit tighter. In the moment it felt sweet, and he closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds, allowing himself to be at ease with how they were.

That was his first mistake.

When he opened his eyes, he suddenly saw her face closing in on his. His brain computing as fast as it could, he moved his head to the side as quickly as physically possible - but somehow in the wrong direction and her lips ended up on his. That was when he realized all too late that she was aiming for his cheek…until he moved.

That was his second mistake.

Her face said it all, and she backed out of the embrace like she had been burned, expression stricken.

“Oh! Ollie, I…I didn’t mean – I’m so sorry, oh my God!” she exclaimed, hands coming up to cover her mouth.

Oliver, completely stupefied over the last couple of seconds, just stood there stupidly staring at her, looking totally flummoxed, hands still patting the air where Laurel had just been.

What had just happened?

Vaguely, way in the background, he was sure he could hear the crackling of gossipy whispers, the trills of giggles, the deep drone of discussion, the gasps of shock, and deep down he knew he needed to do or say something to extinguish this moment from existence because even though it was in actuality an entirely innocent moment between two people, it most certainly will not and already was not being perceived that way.

Technically, the lips of Oliver Queen touched those of Laurel Lance. Technically, that was a kiss. Technically, it was his fault.

But it was innocent. A misunderstanding. A mistake.

But no one there was going to believe him. And nobody was going to back-up his proclamations of innocence. To those outside of the bubble it would have looked like he deliberately turned his head so that their lips would meet. It would have looked as though he was the one who instigated it, who wanted it to happen.

To them it would have looked like Oliver Queen willingly cheated on Felicity Smoak.

That realization sent his head falling into his hands, and his mind spinning. There was no way he was getting out of this. There was no way to explain the truth – not when everyone else would be telling their own versions. Felicity was going to be so heartbroken; sure, maybe she would believe him – and probably would because that was the type of person she was and one of the reasons he loved her so much, but the snarly words of other people who would love nothing more than to see them fall apart would almost definitely have an effect on her.

“Hey Oliver!” one voice jeered. “Where’s Felicity tonight?  You know, Felicity your girlfriend!”

“Yeah we thought you guys were soooooo in love!” Another one joined in.

“I always knew you liked Laurel!”

“I guess once a cheater, always a cheater!”

“What a jerk!”

“Felicity deserves wayyyy better!”

“…and in front of the entire class!”

The sneers became so cacophonic that each separate one got bundled into one huge mesh of noise.

Laurel, for what it was worth, was similarly mortified by the whole thing, those shiny eyes now crying. Rumours and gossip were the last thing she wanted, too, especially now that high school was ending. No one wanted to finish school on a scandal of any size.

“Oliver,” she mouthed, upset.

“I’m sorry,” he said, defeated, before charging past her and everyone else around them, frantically surging toward the nearest exit. Those who weren’t in the hallway but in another part of the house were now noticing the commotion and making their way in the direction he was running from, making so ridiculously difficult to get through, like swimming against the tide.

Phones were ringing and pinging all around the place and without looking at his own, Oliver just knew that there were now pictures floating around. The final nail in the coffin.

No doubt about it, Felicity got them too. Probably with messages of what happened, of horrible comments on how Oliver Queen was the worst and how her seemingly perfect relationship was all one massive charade.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. He didn’t even want to go to the stupid party in the first place and now because of that decision his life was going to be turned upside-down.

He knew he should have gone straight to Felicity’s house and straightened the whole thing out, tell her what really happened, ignore what their classmates were saying and lay it all on the line. He should have done that. If it was any other time he wouldn’t have thought twice about it; he would have made a beeline for her street and never looked back. But this time something was holding him back.

Felicity wasn’t going to London because of their relationship, because of him. And talking her out of it was like trying to talk to a wall. She was obstinate and stern in her own decisions.

And he knew he needed to find a way for her to change her mind.

But this? He didn’t want it to be like this.

Never.

He never wanted to hurt her.

But she was going to be hurt anyway. All of this was going to hurt her. The damage was done in the split-second it took for him to be an idiot and the split-second it took for someone to witness him being an idiot.

High school was so cruel and now as soon as he was leaving, it was making sure he left it in the most memorable way.

Maybe this was the opportunity he needed.

Oh but how he really didn’t want it to be.

When he was nearing his house, he reluctantly took out his phone, half out of curiosity and half out needing to know how bad this truly was.

Twenty-eight messages; over half of them pictures.

One from Tommy that contained a boatload of expletives and exclamation points. He would reply later.

None from Felicity yet. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign.

Against his better judgement, he clicked one of the pictures and felt the breath sag from his body the moment his eyes clapped on it. It was the perfect shot. Whoever took it had somehow managed to capture the exact second their mouths met. And he hated to say it – God, he hated to say it – but it looked like they were definitely into it. Like they had planned for it to happen.

His stomach lurched.

Oh God. This was far more real than he dared to imagine.

Even the pictures that captured the seconds before and after looked too intimate. Were they really standing that close? Were his hands really there? Was he really smiling?

Oliver closed his eyes and screamed into the night, so annoyed at himself.

This wasn’t good.

---

It had been a week since Felicity had heard from Oliver. One week, seven days since she discovered that he was The Arrow. Since a whole new side of him had been shown to her. Since everything she had ever known proved to be untrue. Since she realized that the love she had for him had never really left her.

Was she mad? Hell yes!

She and Oliver didn’t do secrets and this one, boy, this one was literally the most ginormous one she could dare to imagine. Okay well the not-actually-being-dead one was pretty huge too, but that was kind of understandable. Kind of. Either way, she felt like she should have known it was him. Now when she really thought about and you know, googled images of The Arrow, it was so obvious it was him. The jawline! The scruff! The body shape!

How could she not see it?

Probably because she didn’t want to see it.

But she had. And though it changed a lot, it didn’t change everything. He was still Oliver. Underneath that steely armour he now wore like regular clothing he was still that boy she loved.

And it was time to get some answers, right? Like actual, real answers.

This revelation looked like it was the start of something brand new. A new chapter, if you will. But in order to start a new chapter, they had to sort out their past. She needed, desperately needed if she was completely truthful with herself, to leave all that heartbreak back there and resolve the pain and confusion once and for all. They were adults now; they couldn’t run away from this anymore. There was nowhere left to run to.

She needed to forgive him.

Really, truly forgive him.

Tossing her phone from hand to hand as she paced back and forth in her apartment weighing the pros and cons of calling him, she practically jumped out of her skin when the device popped to life and Oliver’s face shone bright on the screen.

God that man had impeccable timing.

Delayed for a few seconds by just sheer surprise, the blonde eventually answered.

“Oliver, hi,” she greeted, biting her lip, “I was just thinking about you – no! Not that I was thinking about you, I mean, I know I just said I was but what I meant was that I happened to remember something that made me think of you but like in a totally innocent, not weird way…and, ugh, I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. Hi.”

His chuckle was so smooth it almost made her melt there and then. Get a grip! she yelled inside her head. “Hey,” he responded, sounding relaxed. “Are you busy right now?”

“Right now?” She gazed around her apartment for no apparent reason. “Nope, not right now, why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over to the mansion for lunch? And maybe to talk?”

Talk. Talking was good. So was lunch, really.

“Yeah…yes, I would love to that sounds…that sounds great.”

“Great.” The smile in his voice was undeniable.

She was grinning too. “Great.”

“See you soon?”

“See you soon.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Felicity had decided earlier that day that she was going to give the graduation party at Tommy’s house a miss, mainly because her head was in a weird place after her conversation with Oliver about London, and the idea of surrounding herself with people she really didn’t spend much time with school was super unappealing. Quite frankly, sitting at home with a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream and watching a terrible film sounded completely amazing.

And truth be told, it was amazing. She was quite pleased with her decision, actually.

Sitting on her bed, wearing her favourite pyjamas, the TV on, ice cream – what more could she want? She needed a night like this. A night to help her remember that she was still a teenager, who was still able to take time out and just… flake. Everything had been so hyper-intense lately and somehow, even though she thought it was impossible, Felicity had reached a whole new level of stress. Who knew that she could be more stressed? She always felt like she lived and operated out of a place of tension in general and recently, it just felt as though she had this gargantuan boulder resting on her shoulders;  sleep was evading her, her appetite was coming and going, and she was really irritable. She was basically the mayor of Stressville at this point.

So, a night in alone had to be good for the soul, right?

She knew Oliver was probably going to show his face at the party. There was no way Tommy was going to let him miss it, and Oliver was nothing but loyal when it came to his best friend. And to her. It was the one of the many things she loved about him. Tommy did send her a few whiny texts and few pictures to make her feel bad and to show her what an unbelievable time she was missing out on to which Felicity sent pictures of her ice cream and fluffy slippers in reply, but no, she was content with letting them enjoy a wild night and content with filling her mind with garbage.

But, no joke, as soon as she had turned out the light and got into bed, her phone pinged and lit up with a message.

Then another message.

And then a picture.

Followed by another picture.

In the space of ten minutes, her phone received over thirty messages and pictures.

And in that moment, sitting up in her bed in the dark, phone right up to her face, the quiet hum of activity on the street outside the only sound to be heard aside from her quickening breaths, Felicity’s heart cracked.

---

This wasn’t good.

This was worse than not good. This was the worst thing he could think of.

Oliver spent the night wide awake, looking at the pictures, trying to figure out how each one depicted the wrong truth. Every single snap showed, what looked to be, a very happy couple – smitten, even – whether they were chatting before the infamous kiss or during the actual lip-lock.

Why were his hands brushing her hips? When did her hand make it to the side of his face?

Oliver couldn’t remember a time when he had been so angry at himself. He actually felt as though he was going to be sick – like, physically sick. Sweat trickled across his hairline, making his hair stick to his head, and he had to change his t-shirt twice because his whole body had gone into this weird shaky, perspiring state. There was no point in getting into bed under the covers because his mind was going a mile a minute so he chose, instead, to pace back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, and then he sat at his desk for a while with his eyes closed, and then he plodded downstairs to drink five glasses of water and then he went back up to his bedroom to pace some more because at least if he was doing that, the energy thrumming through his system was going somewhere.

Every now and again, his eye would catch the framed photograph of him and Felicity that he had sitting on his bedside locker and his heart would drop again.

Never, ever, ever would he cheat on Felicity.

She was everything to him.

But those pictures with Laurel…it definitely didn’t look that way, and judging by the messages he was receiving from random people and classmates alike – news travelled fast in Starling City – no one else was buying it either. Playboy Oliver Queen had returned.

And there was still no word from Felicity.

His stomach churned even more. He knew she had seen it by now and he knew he had to talk to her. That that was the very first thing a loyal and loving boyfriend would do. A loyal and loving boyfriend would have called or, better yet, showed up at her door in the middle of the night bearing apologies and truth and declarations of love and how there was no one else he’d want to be with in this life. A loyal and loving boyfriend would have told her that she was the only one who could light his way, who could make him feel like he could do anything, who let him know that he was never alone, who told him and showed him what it meant to love and be loved.

Three times he stopped himself from leaving the house and doing just that, but it wasn’t because he didn’t love her.

It was because he did.

---

Oliver hadn’t called. Or text. Or shown up at her door.

The whole night Felicity lay awake waiting for him, expecting him, but daylight broke and there was still no sign of him. Every fibre of her being screamed to make the first move; oh, she’d keep her cool and play it nonchalant and act as if she was totally unfazed by the whole thing when in actuality she was anything but, yet something else inside her caught her every single time she picked up her phone and her finger hovered over his name on the screen. Why should she reach out first? Surely it was his responsibility to make contact, right? After all, he was the one with his lips and hands all over another girl’s body – actually scratch that, not just another girl’s body but Laurel freakin’ Lance’s body! Like of all the girls to be in that picture with him of course it had to be Laurel Lance. Why did it have to be her? Like really, what kind of sick joke was this? Was she being played? Had she been played this whole time? There he was telling her he loved her and that she was the best person he had ever known and that he wanted to be with her forever and yet, here was this picture – multiple pictures at that – that showed him kissing her. Eyes closed, bodies leaning in, hands feeling the air around her hips, her hand on his cheek.

Ugh, why hadn’t he just…called? Just to put all of her insecurities to rest. Tell her he loved her. That it was all a misunderstanding (even though she wasn’t sure how anything like that could be a misunderstanding; it seemed pretty obvious that they were both into it…but she’d listen to him, hear him out).

She just needed to speak to him.

And then, as if by some magical intervention, the doorbell rang.

Felicity hopped out her bed and looked at her alarm clock. 11:43 a.m.

11:43 a.m. and she was still wearing her pyjamas.

Of course she was.

With a resigned and resolute nod, she steeled herself, threw her hair up into a tidier ponytail, put on her glasses and made her way downstairs.

She would know that silhouette through the stained glass of her front door anywhere.

Slowly, and with a deep breath, she turned the handle and cracked the door open just enough so that he could see her full frame.

He looked…sad.

Her pulse raced. And not in the good way.

“Hey,” he said, his smile not reaching his eyes. “Can I come in?”

The blonde tried to smile, tried to look carefree, but even she knew it was falling flat. “Sure,” she replied, her voice practically a whisper, and she opened the door fully and let him in.

---

He told himself over and over and over again that he was making the right decision, that he had to do it, that it was the only way, but the second she opened the door and he saw her make-up free in her pizza pyjamas, his knew his resolve was melting.

God, he loved her so much.

Why was this so hard? They were just teenagers; they shouldn’t have had to worry about stuff like this.

She looked…reserved. Cautious. Her eyes were a little red, like she hadn’t slept all night.

Oliver took a deep breath.

The short walk to her living room was quiet, and the room itself was illuminated by the searing sun outside,  conflicting with the mood between them. The air was heavy, pressing in on them. He started to sweat again.

Felicity walked over to the fireplace, Oliver stayed near the doorway. Neither of them sat.

“You look nice,” he said, trying to break the ice.

His girlfriend laughed once, surprised. “You do realize I’m in my pyjamas, right?”

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “They’re cute.”

“You bought them for me when I was sick last winter.”

A short huff of amusement escaped him. “I remember.”

But then Oliver dropped his eyes to stare at the floor, following one of the patterns on the wood for a few seconds, unable to look at her.

Silence stuttered between them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I…should have come sooner,” he eventually said.

“You didn’t even call.”

“I know. I should hav-”

“Then why didn’t you?” the blonde cut in, hurt evident in every syllable.

Numerous replies flew through his head, all of them ready and willing to make things okay, to fix them and make them stronger, but…she had to go to London. She had to take the opportunity to be great, without anything – or anyone - holding her back.

Because she was better than great and the whole world needed to see that.

So when she asked, “Then why didn’t you?” he responded with, “Because I was ashamed.”

---

Ashamed.

Of all the words Felicity expected to hear, that was not one of them. She expected scared. Worried. Anything else, really. She expected a cool, suave, seamless sentence that would have at least dulled the beating of her heart and eased the tightness in her chest.

Not ‘ashamed’.

Ashamed implied that he felt guilt for a reason. Not just because it was a mistake or a misunderstanding, but because he did something wrong.

She swallowed hard, hating the way one word had her emotions betraying her, hating the spring of tears in her eyes, hating how he couldn’t even look at her. Suddenly she felt much smaller, much younger than her years, like this was happening at the wrong time and she wasn’t ready for it yet.

Was this really happening?

---

He desperately wanted to look at her. Wanted to gaze deep into her eyes and drink them in for as long as humanly possible. Wanted to drown in them. Wanted to stop time and just feel that feeling one more time before it was gone, before the spark was extinguished, before the pain and the hurt and the sorrow crept in and everything was ruined.

But her quiet intake of breath forced him to keep his eyes everywhere except at her. Oliver could almost hear the wheels in her head turning, coming up with conclusions.

Finally she spoke. Quiet. Measured. “Why are you ashamed, Oliver?”

He went through his options again. “Because…” he paused, forming his sentence, “…because it happened and it made me realize something.”

“I assume the ‘it’ you’re referring to is the kiss between you and Laurel?”

The sharpness of her words made him visibly wince. “Yes. Laurel and I kissed.”

He didn’t need to look at her to know her heart had sunk.

His sank, too.

“Why?” she whispered.

He raised his head, eyes locking with hers. “It was a mistake,” he started. “I went one way, she went the same way…” he trailed off, noting the slightest glimmer of hope in her stare and knew he had to finish this off as soon as he could before he completely chickened out. He couldn’t and  wouldn’t be the one to hold her back from her future. “We didn’t mean to kiss, we didn’t plan to kiss, and it wasn’t supposed to happen. But that’s not why I’m ashamed.”

Felicity wrapped her arms around herself. “Oliver, what is going on here?”

“The kiss and even just talking with Laurel beforehand made me…think about stuff.”

“What kind of stuff? Stuff like…” she closed her eyes, shoulders high, “…us?”

A film of tears covered his eyes and he faced the sunlight just for a second to make sure that it didn’t develop any further. “Yeah, stuff like us.”

She was hurt now, and he could feel rather than see the walls coming up. “Oh well then please do elaborate because clearly you have some sort of new insight on our relationship that I would like to hear all about.”

“Please don’t be like that,” he begged softly, not wanting this to turn into something uglier than he intended.

“Be like what?” she blurted, arms out wide now. “Oliver, I went to bed last night and everything was fine – perfect, even, and within the space of a few minutes I was bombarded with pictures of my boyfriend, who claims to love me by the way, kissing another girl. And not just any girl - oh no, the girl everyone knows he had a crush on for years before I came along. Imagine how that made me feel. Imagine how it feels to wait up all night to hear from him to find out what really happened, to want nothing more than to have him apologise for making me look like a fool in front of our whole class – because that’s how I look, by the way, Oliver. I look like a fool for ever believing that playboy billionaire Oliver Queen loves me.” He opened his mouth to speak but she continued on, words tumbling past her lips, “And now imagine that said boyfriend is standing in front of me telling me that that kiss wasn’t really a kiss but that it has somehow opened his eyes and given him a fresh new perspective on our relationship. So please, Oliver, you tell me how I’m supposed to be because I’m so confused.” Tears were eking their way out of her eyes now, arms and hands spinning around with every sentence like they needed to be doing something.

The room was suddenly so much smaller, like it was about to swallow them up.

Oliver ran his hands through his hair, every emotion bouncing around his frame. “I just…I think…we’re so young, Felicity. I mean, we’re not kids but we’re not adults either. We don’t have to have it all figured out right now– we’re not supposed to have it all figured out right now. We’re supposed to just, I don’t know, live. This is the time where we try new things and make mistakes and find out what we’re meant to do.”

“Did you read that in a brochure or something because it sounds like a load of shit.”

“Felicity, please-”

She took a few steps toward him, shoulders square, pain colouring her features. “Oliver is this your way of telling me that you want to see other people? Is ‘try new things’ really just a cover up for the fact that you feel, what, trapped with me and you want out? Because if I remember correctly, you were all in with us.” Her bottom lip quivering, she settled her blues on his. “That’s how you made me feel anyway. Like I was what you wanted.”

It took everything ounce of strength not to pull her to him and kiss her for all of eternity. She was what he wanted. And what he would always want. He would never not love Felicity Smoak.

“There’s someone better for you,” was all he could manage. “You deserve better than me and when you meet him you’ll know it straight away and you’ll know that I was right. I just think we owe it to ourselves to... not be too set on what we think we want.”

“I don’t want anybody else, Oliver.”

The sentence hung in the air, the words curling between them.

I don’t want anybody else either, he almost said but instead he stayed silent, knowing that there was nothing he could say to that that would make this conversation any easier.

Then all of a sudden Felicity’s eyes hardened, all softness scattered as hers examined his.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

“The kiss, Oliver. Did you enjoy it?”

“Well, it was a kiss-”

“Oliver it’s a simple question: did you or did you not enjoy kissing Laurel Lance? Just please, God, tell me the truth.”

This was it.

“I…” he hesitated, loathing himself. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t.”

And that was it.

That was the moment that Oliver Queen broke Felicity Smoak’s heart.

---

It was as though someone was sucking all of the air out of her lungs and she was frantically gasping for whatever was left as she moved herself as far away from him as the room allowed. Her vision was blurred, obscured by so many tears that she thought her eyes might just fall out of her face with the weight of them and she walked into the side of the armchair in her haste, hurting her knee in the process.

Oliver was quick to move to her aid but one swift hand movement had him stopped dead in his spot.

Felicity couldn’t believe what was happening. Oliver wanted Laurel. All of this crap about not settling and moving on to different things was just to cover himself over the fact that he got a taster of what it’d be like if he wasn’t with her. He got bored. Simple as that. He told Felicity he loved her, that he wanted to be with her, that there would never be anyone else, and yet as soon as something else cropped up, he jumped at it because it looked a little more fun and a little more exciting. Who wants to be settled with a girlfriend at eighteen, right? You want to play the field. He had his fill with her and now he’s done.

She just wasn’t enough.

“Felicity-”

Her hand came up to cover her heart, squeezing it like the action could keep it together. “Don’t say my name like that. Don’t you dare say my name like it’s my favourite sound in the whole world. Just don’t.”

She’d never heard her voice go that low before.

Then again he’d never made her feel like this.

Rejected. Betrayed. Unwanted. Unloved.

Of course Oliver Queen didn’t love her in that forever kind of way. Who was she kidding? He was just playing house for a while until he felt like it was time for something new.

 Was there a word that described the exact moment you know your heart is well and truly broken?

Because that was how Felicity was feeling.

“I can’t believe this. I actually thought you loved me.” A harsh, humourless laugh escaped her lips, the action making her whole body lean forward with its weight.

“I did – I do,” he retorted, eyes squeezed shut as if he couldn’t connect his words to what he wanted to actually say and her heart tugged, scrambling for any kind of hope. He looked uncomfortable, as though his body was at war but he stayed rooted to the spot. Rigid. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”

“I feel like you’ve said enough. I mean, it’s like you said, right? We’re so young; who are we to know what real love is? This was all just some kind of experiment or, I don’t know, something to pass the time until graduation. I was just some distraction until something better came along.”

“No,” he interjected sternly, finally edging toward her. “My feelings are real-”

“If your feelings are real we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, Oliver.”

Felicity had heard enough. She could barely hear him over the roaring in her ears and she couldn’t stand there and let him rip her heart to pieces any longer.

To his credit, a flicker of hurt crossed his face, his eyes glazed over in some kind of fog. “Felici-”

“You need to go,” she said with as much grit as she could manage, finger pointing toward the window. “I don’t want you here anymore.”

---

Oliver had played this scene out in his head a million times and every time he envisioned something different, but he never factored in how much it would destroy him to hear the heartbreak in her voice, to see her so cold and defensive, to know that he was the one responsible for causing her so much pain.

But he couldn’t make this better. Even if he wanted to, and God, he really wanted to, he couldn’t take back anything he said. He knew by the strain in her beautiful blue eyes that the damage had been done.

Warring with himself to the point where he could barely stand it anymore, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned his back to her. “I’m so sorry, Felicity,” he breathed, not willing to risk a glance back, and he left.

---

The door clicked shut so softly that Felicity wasn’t sure it had happened and against her better judgement, she shuffled out of the room into the hallway just to be sure.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to see but when she saw the empty space and the closed door she knew it was over.

Standing there in her hallway in her pizza pyjamas that he had bought her, Felicity cried.

---

He could hear her broken sniffles from the other side of the door, his heart unable to lead him away from the house just yet.

It was done. Now she could be free to pursue her dreams.

And sitting on the steps outside the Smoak household, Oliver allowed himself to cry, too.

---

Oliver was nervous.

Today was the day he was going to tell Felicity the truth – the whole truth, every grimy bit of detail, every poor decision made, every regret he had.

He wasn’t looking for forgiveness; he was looking to amend the lies and to tell her how he really felt. That that eighteen-year-old kid was in way over his head and was completely besotted with her. That that kind of love does exist and did exist for him then. That all of those things that he had said to her once upon a time were true and had always been true and would always be true.

He just hoped he could get the words out in a coherent, non-scrambling way. The last thing he wanted was to confuse her even more.

And obviously things were a little more complicated now with him being The Hood, or The Arrow as she had referred to him before, and with that piece of information came a whole other set of difficulties and complications and would not serve him that well when it came to the topic of lying.

But he prayed that by the end of the day, if nothing else, the air would be cleared. Or at least be a little clearer. He’d take that, too.

It was stupid how just the prospect of seeing Felicity made him feel like a lovesick teenager again. There he was standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom, checking out his fourth shirt. The first two were too formal for just hanging out in the mansion and the third was too bright. This one was short-sleeved and navy and he just wasn’t totally sold on it.

Where was Speedy when he needed her? She was much better at this kind of thing than he was.

Maybe he was going too formal. Maybe a t-shirt was better.

But what if she wore a dress and then he looked like he didn’t even try at all?

How could something so simple as picking out an outfit be so ridiculously hard?

He took a deep, swelling breath and tried to calm himself down. He had been in way more precarious situations before and he made them out alive. Everything was going to be just fine; it’s just a shirt.

The ping of the doorbell yanked him from his internal monologue and he started, looking at himself once more in the mirror.

Navy short-sleeve it was, then.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Text

“Am I early?” Felicity asked as Oliver opened the door a little breathlessly. It was a long walk from his bedroom to the hall door when you’re in a rush. “Because I know we didn’t exactly specify a time, but…”

“No, you’re right on time,” he replied, happy to see her, happy she came.

“Okay, great,” she beamed.

“Come on in.” He pulled the door out wide, waving his hand in gesture.

“You know I think that’s the first time someone from the actual Queen family has answered the door to me.”

“You know what, I think that might be the first time I’ve ever answered this door,” he said in funny realization. “You know what us multi-billionaires are like.”

The blonde laughed, eyes twinkling as he led her to the lounge.

Earlier Oliver had decided to do something a little bit different for lunch. The dining room was far too large for just two people and the kitchen just didn’t fit the bill for them so Oliver and Raisa organised to have the table from the conservatory brought into the lounge and have it set up as if it were in a restaurant: tablecloth, small vase with a flower in it at the centre, plates, glasses, cutlery – the works. Nothing too fancy but just a smidge more romantic than just having a coffee or grabbing a bite to eat.

“I, uh, know that we didn’t really talk about it, but I wanted this to feel a little different than just us sitting at the island in the kitchen over a bowl of pasta like we used to do.” He gently pulled out the chair for her, “…is that okay?”

Felicity’s eyes took in the sight. He could tell she was surprised by the gesture. “Setting up a table for two in the middle of the magnificent Queen lounge? I would say that is more than okay. If your mother saw this she would kill you-” Felicity suddenly cut herself short and shot her head around in frantic search of the Queen matriarch, her handbag slipping off her shoulder with her abrupt movements. “She’s not here is she? Not that I don’t want to have the pleasure of your mother’s company again, I mean it’s been a long time and that would be, you know, lovely and of course I am all for that but…she’s not here, right?”

Oliver couldn’t control the chuckle that came from him, and he ducked his head to hide just how much loved being around her again. He wondered if that would ever fade, that love of her company. He doubted it.

“No, she’s away for the week.”

Motioning to the chair, he could feel the relief radiate from her as she sat down.

“You look beautiful,” he said tenderly, rounding the table to take his own seat. And God, she really did. Her blonde hair was down in soft curls and she was wearing this red dress that was just…wow. Red was definitely her colour.

“Thanks, so do you –handsome,” she corrected with squeezed eyes. “Handsome. You look handsome.”

“I would have taken beautiful,” he smiled a bit cheekily.

She smirked in response. “I like your shirt, it brings out your eyes - not that your eyes need much help because they are ridiculous and let’s be real, you could wear a paper bag and look Greek-god-esque and even more so now than ever before and, you know what, I’m gonna stop talking in…3…2…1…” She hurried to grab her glass of water and take a long swig of it, her eyes engrossed in the ceiling for a few moments.

 “I tried three others on first,” he admitted sheepishly.

A timid smile danced on her lips. “This was my fifth attempt at making an outfit work.”

“Trust me, it’s working. Overtime.”

She tilted her head to the side, eyes half-rolling. “I forgot how much of a cheeseball you are.”

Oliver laughed. “I didn’t think I still had it in me.”

“I’m glad you do.”

The two of them basked in the warmth that flowed between them, the crackling of renewed hope alive in the air. Oliver rubbed his thighs with his hands just to release some of that nervy energy coursing through him, slowing down his heart rate like he had done a thousand times beforehand, and was relieved to notice that Felicity was spinning her glass around and around and around for the exact same reason. None of them seem much interested in the omelettes on their plates.

“So…” he breathed.

“So,” she mimicked.

“I know that there are a lot of things that need to be said and to be talked about; seven years is a long time and for us, so much has happened, but I really appreciate you being so open to listening and to meeting with me,” Oliver began. “It couldn’t have been easy after what I did to you in the past and what I did to you in the present by not telling you that I’m The Hood.”

“Oliver,” Felicity shook her head, “you were gone for five years and I’ll probably never know all of the things that you endured just to get back here. Yeah a lot has happened and there’s a lot that I’m still processing and confused about but I think I owe it to myself and we owe it to each other to at least try to navigate some of what’s going on with us.”

Oliver cleared his throat. “Those five years away changed me – I…I can’t deny that. And I saw some things that you can’t even imagine; I went through things that even now I can’t fully get my head around, things that just defy explanation. I had to become a person I didn’t even recognise. Those years were just…hell. I’m sorry,” he coughed, a little emotional, and he took time to gather himself. She waited. “The entire time that I was gone, I could never completely trust someone, and when that goes on for so long you stop seeing people as people. You see threats. Or targets. And when I decided to come home I just didn’t know how to turn that part of me off for the longest time. Tommy and Digg tried to steer me in the right direction and they helped me see that what I was doing was more than just righting wrongs and that I was actually doing some good, but there was still this part of me that was looking at people with this veil over my eyes. You can call me a hero and yeah, I made progress but I was struggling. So much.” His lips tugged upward. “Then we ran into each other in the coffee shop and just the sight of you was enough to put a crack in those walls I had put up. Getting to see you again and having you back in my life helped me realize that I still have the ability to see people as people. And that was…that was a game-changer. And I just…I want to do this right.”

Felicity was visibly moved by his words, every now and again she looked away from him in effort to keep from crying.

“And how do we do this right?” she posed, scrapping at a loose tear that escaped.

Oliver exhaled deeply. “By telling you the truth about what happened all those years ago.” He made sure he met her gaze. “Felicity, I’ve been playing this conversation over and over in my head and I just keep coming back to the same thing: you need to know that I never wanted to break up with you.”

Uncertainty flashed across Felicity’s eyes and she ever so slightly receded in her chair. Suddenly the omelettes seemed like a terrible idea; there wasn’t going to be much food eaten during this.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that there was never a single moment when I was with you that I wanted to change. I loved you,” he declared softly with a tiny shrug. “I loved being with you, I loved being around you, I loved talking to you, listening to you, making plans with you – the whole thing. You were my favourite person in the whole world and I never ever wanted to hurt you.”

“Oliver, I don’t understand.” She was defensive now.

Rolling his lips in, he met her stare with a tentativeness he didn’t know he still possessed. “You weren’t going to London. This great, big, huge opportunity and you told me you didn’t want to go, that you wanted to stick to the plan. Our plan. I couldn’t let you throw that away, Felicity, I just couldn’t. You had – have – so much to offer and there was no way I was going to stand in the way of that.”

A flicker of something he couldn’t quite read shot through her eyes and his heart beat a little faster.

“Oliver…”

“I didn’t know what else to do, and things just happened and I ran with them because I knew that you were throwing away something amazing because of me. I loved you too much for that to happen.”

Felicity’s eyes were much colder than they had been previous and Oliver swallowed hard at the hurt rising up within them. He knew this was going to be hard. “Hold on, so you are trying to tell me that you, what, orchestrated that kiss with Laurel to make me think that you wanted her not me? What about when you went out with her and then subsequently Sara? Was that, what, to make it more convincing? I don’t understand any of this, Oliver!”

“No, I would never go to those lengths. The kiss happened and it was a genuine mistake but I-”

“But you used it as a tool to break my heart,” she finished for him, tears back in full force. “You manipulated a situation, something that was supposedly innocent, in order to make me feel like I was worthless. Because that’s how I felt, Oliver. Like I was nothing to you. And what do you do when you feel like the one person in the world who has told you countless times that he loves you and that he wants you suddenly turns around and makes you feel the opposite? How was I supposed to trust anyone ever again? If the person you want doesn’t want you back, why would anyone else ever want you?” Her voice trailed off in the end, the vulnerability cracking through her angered exterior.

Oliver felt the ache in his chest again. He had no idea what he was doing back then, what the repercussions for Felicity would be, and he wished for nothing more than to go back to that eighteen-year-old kid and talk him out of what he was going to do.

“Felicity I’m so sorry, you have to believe me-”

“London was my decision,” she countered strongly with a hand over her heart. “And no, you’re right, I wasn’t going to go. I thought what we had was worth staying and fighting for and I always, always believed that there was going to be another opportunity like London that would’ve kept me near you. We were eighteen; to think that nothing else, nothing better, could come along would have been narrowing my view on my life and my abilities.”

“I really felt like this was too good to miss out on,” he retorted, moving his plate out of his way so he could lean both arms on the table. “Of course you would have got other offers – I have never, for a second, doubted your capabilities. Your brain is incredible. But I was afraid that if you never took that because of us, then us was always going to be factored into a decision and I didn’t want to be someone that you came to resent because you chose me over something better.”

“I would have never resented you,” she whispered, pulling further away in the chair.

“You don’t know that,” he said calmly.

“You should have talked to me about it, you should have found another way because what you did, that was so much worse than breaking up with me for my own good. Using Laurel like that? Making me believe crap about trying new things and being too young to settle down? You lied straight to my face, Oliver. You saw me falling apart and you kept twisting the knife in further and further. You had me watch while you moved on with Laurel – was that part of the plan, by the way? Or did you just trick yourself into thinking you were doing it for me?”

Oliver dropped his head, the memories of it all making him so tired. “That wasn’t what everyone thought it was. It was something small that escalated into something much bigger than I expected and I don’t…I don’t really have any excuse for that. I was broken. I had broken my heart in the process and I was acting out because that’s all I knew.”

“And then you took Sara on The Gambit with you.” Cold, and factual.

“There are a lot of things about that period in my life that I wish I could take back, Felicity. You have no idea. But over the years, I’ve learned that I can’t run away from the choices I made.”

The woman wiped away a few stray tears and rubbed her hands on her dress, emotionally drawn and noticeably reliving those moments in her living room all those years ago.

“I loved you so much, Oliver, you have no idea. When I heard The Gambit went down it was like a part of me went down with it. And I always prayed I’d get to see you again and I’ve longed for answers about our relationship but learning how easy things could have been fixed or changed somehow makes it all so much worse.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I would never…” she paused for a second, “I would never regret my time in London because I grew a lot in that year. I was grieving for you and it made it easier to be away from Starling when all of that was happening, and I learned a lot about myself, too.” She forced herself to meet his gaze and he was unsure of what she would see there. “But I just wish that you could have told me truth instead of concocting some stupid lies and shattering my heart. It just feels so cruel, Oliver. And you were never cruel. You were so loving and you made me feel like I was someone. And then you took that assurance away from me and I didn’t feel like anybody.”

Daringly, Oliver slowly reached out across the table and took one of her hands in his. It felt cold and lifeless and he tried and failed to ignore the pang that shot through his chest.  “Felicity, I loved you with everything in me. You meant so much to me – and you still do. I’ve been in love with you for seven years and that’s not ever going to change. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am; if I could go back and change it, I would. But I can’t.”

“I know you’re sorry,” she breathed. “And I want to believe you when you say you love me-”

“What do I have to do to fix this?”

She rubbed the back of his hand, working her lip between her teeth. “I don’t know,” she eventually said quietly.

---

Laurel Lance felt like the most hated girl on the planet. And she couldn’t understand it, because that kiss was a mistake. It wasn’t like she went to that party to seek out Oliver and kiss him senseless for the sole purpose of stealing him away from Felicity. What did that say about her if everyone was suddenly so quick to think of her as some kind of pathetic, desperate maneater?

Laurel liked Felicity. Okay, so maybe she never made much effort to talk to her but they were just in different groups in school and they didn’t have much in common, but that didn’t mean she wanted to steal her boyfriend.

Oliver had his chance with her. And that was a long time ago. She never let him know that he really hurt her though, because she was too proud for that, yet she would be lying if she said that she didn’t see some kind of future with him. She’d always had a crush on him when they were younger and it was no secret that he liked her too, so it always seemed inevitable that they would end up together. But when he told her he didn’t want to be with her, she was upset. He was blunt and honest – which she appreciated – but nothing ever really prepares you for the jerking drop of disappointment, and she saw some of her plans and hopes dissipate in a moment.

He was happy with Felicity - that was obvious to everyone. And she was happy for them, she was, but something in the way they talked to each other at the party, and the way he listened and encouraged her…and even just the way he looked at her while she spoke told her that he was the guy she always thought he could be.

That’s why she hugged him; something about the moment seemed right to do so, and truth be told, she really needed a hug. Finishing off high school and applying to colleges really shook her world, and lately she had felt more confused and more alone than she ever had before. That’s not to say that she usually had it all together but life was suddenly sprinting ahead of her and she was kind of floundering around behind it, unsure of pretty much everything.

The kiss though…she was so humiliated. She shouldn’t have tried to kiss him on the cheek – what was she thinking? It’s not as though they had a relationship that warranted that kind of thing; she had no idea what came over her, but Oliver moved and there was very little she could do before his lips were planted firmly on hers.

And for a millisecond she felt something. A small glimmer of something unidentifiable.

And then she bolted away, the cackling and heckling from her classmates enough to bring her right back down to earth. They were all pointing and laughing and calling him names and calling her names and taking pictures and all she wanted was for the floor to swallow her whole and end it all. Tears had immediately filled her eyes at the taunting and she couldn’t believe that this was how she was going to end high school. Oliver looked no better, like he was in a daze and not sure where he was.

She hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. It had only been two days since it happened but she at least thought he would have replied to her apology message, yet she supposed he probably had other things on his mind.

But then she received a message from her sister Sara.

Oliver had broken up with Felicity.

---

Word spread like wildfire over his break-up with Felicity and Oliver hated himself.

He knew what he was doing was in her best interest but he also knew there was a better way he could have handled it. Breaking her heart had never been an option for him since the day he met her and somehow, over the course of time, it seemed to him to be the only thing he could do to ensure that she took all the chances that were offered to her.

He spent the next day just lying on his bed, ignoring his phone and pretending like he hadn’t lost the girl of his dreams. Raisa brought up some food and drink but never said anything, reading his mood. Speedy yelled at him when she found out what happened from her friends in school, baffled and distraught over the end of his relationship. Thea really loved Felicity. So not only was he the worst boyfriend in the world he was also the worst brother. Great.

And Oliver was perfectly content with letting the world slip by him because he didn’t see the point in being a part of it right now. He didn’t know what to do; it was like he was public enemy number one. Poor Laurel was probably getting the brunt of it, too, but he couldn’t even force himself to talk to her.

What was the point? Nothing was going to make it any better.

“This whole look really suits you.”

Oliver lifted his head from his pillow to see Tommy standing in the doorway sporting a much smaller smirk than usual.

“The pathetic rich kid sulking in his superhero pyjamas – it is definitely a look.”

“I found them in my drawer,” Oliver muttered, pulling at his Batman shorts and lying back down. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry did you just ask what I’m doing here?” he questioned, striding over to the bed. “You expect something like that to go down and for me to just sit at home? You weren’t returning my calls.”

“I didn’t realize we were dating.”

“Ollie, look at me,” Tommy said with a huff, plonking onto the bed and taking up a soft American football from the bed and tossing at his face.

Resigned, Oliver scrambled to sit upright.

“What the hell happened, man? I was in the kitchen and I heard a bunch of yelling and by the time I got upstairs you were gone and everyone was talking about you kissing Laurel! Not to mention the endless amount of pictures I was sent. I think, as your best friend, that I am supposed to be told about life-altering events like this.”

The other boy crossed his arms, slouching in shame. “Felicity has to go to London.”

“Are we talking about the same thing here?” Tommy asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. “How does that have anything to with this?”

“Because I used a situation to my advantage because I thought it was the right thing to do, but now I just feel horrible.”

“Must you insist on talking in code?” Tommy asked in exasperation.” My brain still hurts from the party and you acting like The Riddler isn’t doing me any favours. Just spill, Ollie. What’s really going on?”

Oliver sighed, dragging one of his knees up to his chest. “The kiss was a mistake; I just went the wrong way. But everyone saw and everyone had already made up their minds about what happened and the pictures were being sent and I just, I don’t know, I thought maybe this was fate or something.”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“I told Felicity that the kiss didn’t happen the way it looked-”

“Yes, good,” his best friend interjected.

“But I said that it made me realize that maybe we shouldn’t be so settled on what we think we want.”

“Okay, no, bad! Man, what were you thinking?” Tommy picked up the soft toy and flung it harder at him.

Oliver picked up the same toy and fired it back at him, but Tommy ducked in time and it went flying across the room, landing dramatically by the door. “I was thinking that she needed to leave and there was no way she was going to leave if we were together. And if she thought there was still a chance between us then it would be even more difficult for her. It needed to be a clean break.”

“So you were trying to be selfless by being selfish. A hero by being a villain. I mean, it’s kind of poetic if it wasn’t so stupid.”

“Tommy, I love her okay and I want her to be the best and the last thing I need right now is you telling me that what I did was wrong because I’ve told myself that a million times.”

“Ollie, she was always going to be the best no matter what she chose. You’re just dumb and in love and love, my friend, has made you more stupid than I thought possible. The least you could have done was consulted me on this plan beforehand so that I could have stopped you. Not only are you completely miserable but, now it looks like the old Oliver who wants to play the field is back. She’s going to think that your relationship was all a lie when really the truth is that you love her too much.” He closed his eyes and rested a hand on his forehead. “Now my brain really hurts.”

“I know, mine too.”

“You know this is going to have huge consequences, right? Like, have you even talked to Laurel yet?”

Oliver shook his head, the shame all-consuming.

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Ollie, this is such a mess.”

“I need to talk to her. I just don’t know what to say.”

“I mean you could just tell her the truth but you’re just gonna sound like a lunatic and I don’t see how that helps anything.”

Oliver flit his gaze around his bedroom, taking note of all the things in there that reminded him of Felicity: the hoodie she bought him for his birthday that hung lazily over the chair at his desk, a collection of ticket stubs from movies they had seen together stuck to his wall , her lip balm she left there just a few days previous…

And instead of the weight solely piercing through his chest, it was all over him from the tips of his fingers and toes to the top of his head and everything just felt duller. It was as if every part of his body had given up and left this dampened state in its wake. That was the moment he knew he had reached complete and total heartbreak and God, it was so much worse than he imagined.

His best friend leaned forward, tapping him on his leg. “Hey, are you okay? I’m sorry for going at you I just can’t believe this happened.” He sighed. “I know I don’t say this stuff a lot but I am here if you need anything. You’ve always been a great friend to me so I think it’s only fair that I help you out every now and again too,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks, Tommy,” he replied with a genuine smile, knowing that he’d never find a better friend than Tommy Merlyn. “Look, I’ll talk to Laurel but I’m not telling her the truth; nobody can know, okay? I didn’t just mess up the best thing in my life for nothing. What I need to do now is just carry on, I guess.”

The other boy scrunched his face. “I mean I hate to bring it up but what about what everyone thinks of you? Your bad-boy reputation is kind of taking off again and I don’t know how to stop it, man.”

“Let them think what they want. Rumours are gonna happen anyway and people are always going to say what they want to say and see what they want to see and I’m not going to fight it. I’ll be out of Starling soon and then I’ll be old news.”

“Soon? Ollie, we’re not heading to the East Coast until August.”

Oliver used his arms to push himself up and threw his legs over the side of the bed so that he could sit on the edge of it. “Dad’s going on a business trip on The Gambit in a few weeks and I think I’m gonna go with him. I need a break from here.”

“You and your dad on a boat? That sounds like a reality TV show in the making. Let’s hope you guys don’t kill each other.”

“We’ll see what happens,” Oliver snorted, clambering up to his feet. Tommy followed suit.

Feeling a surge of gratitude towards his best friend, Oliver hugged him. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Anytime,” he replied, breaking the embrace. “Now hit the shower because you smell like despair and desperation.”

---

Felicity hadn’t left her house since Oliver broke up with her and she wasn’t sure if she was ever going to leave it again. Who needed to go outside, right? I mean, with the internet nowadays all of your essentials could be delivered to your door making the whole idea of trekking outside completely obsolete. She could just sit on her bed wearing a bathrobe, eating an endless supply of junk food and just waste away.

She often wondered what this phase of a break-up was. Like, there were the five stages of handling grief, so what was the equivalent to dealing with heartbreak? Because right now she was in this weird bitter but not angry, sad but not crying, resigned but not accepted phase that seemed to spark her careless, sarcastic side that her mother was feeling the force of.

She felt as though she had experienced possibly every emotion under the sun. Sometimes she just broke out into laughter at her life and how she had somehow ended up here, wallowing over a boy. She was never the wallowing type; there were logical reasons for everything and she thought that wasting any good energy on being upset over things out of your control was just that: a waste. But this? This was brand new to her.

And she didn’t like it.

Like, at all.

And everything about herself and about her wants and hopes and all that stuff was just tossed into the air and muddled up in the process.

It wasn’t until her mom knocked on her bedroom door a couple of days later with the saddest smile Felicity had seen her wear since her dad left and gently placed the confirmation letter of her scholarship at her feet without saying a single word that Felicity felt the tiniest spark in her heart again.

She picked up the letter in her hands, feeling the extra thick velvet-y paper they use to send the successful applicants and released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.