I wrote this to help get over some writers block for another story. Didn't really work. But here's this I guess. I didn't know you needed an invite to AO3 so I'm waiting on that, because really I planned to put all my Arrow/Olicity fics there not here. But I needed to put this out tonight. So here you go.

What Matters

The day is stressful enough. His mother's future is being discussed, decided upon by a group of strangers as he stands there with his baby sister, the lawyer in front of them. He is so out of control in this situation. So Oliver. The old Oliver. The boy who never did anything worthwhile, never took any responsibility, didn't want any responsibilities, was a celebrity, was no one. Naïve boy. Stupid boy. Sometimes at night, trying to sleep, he will imagine what it would be like if he could go back in time, to being that boy. He would spend so much time with Thea, he would treat Laurel like she deserved, he would never miss an opportunity to tell his parents he loved them, he would be happy, carefree. But those were pointless thoughts and eventually he would either fall into a fitful sleep or go workout. That Oliver was dead and gone. Standing here, beside Thea, waiting, hoping, he was a harder man, a stronger man, but even so he was still powerless in this situation. For all he did now to help others and this city, he could not help his mother with this.

The ringing jerked him out of his head and the situation and he fished his phone from his pocket. Seeing the caller id he perked up a bit, he could definitely go for a Felicity babble right now, maybe she'd even say one of her famous accidental innuendos. Those amused him the most. But that was not what he got.

Oliver.

He can hear her underneath the harsh noise of the Count, not calling for him, but needing him. There is fire in his veins. How had this happened? It didn't matter. He is moving without thought. He barely heard Thea's protestations. He would deal with everything else later. It didn't matter.

Like always his Hood gear is with him. He dons it, but does not bother with the make-up or the namesake. This is not work for the vigilante. This is personal. He calls Officer Lance on the way using his modified Hood voice, tells him Felicity is in trouble and to get all units to Queen consolidated. Oliver tears to the building, through it, to floor where she is, where he has her. When Olver finally arrives and sees them he approaches slowly, cautiously. He has no plans, only fury, fear, and the blood and adrenaline roaring through his veins. The bow is there too, an extension of him.

The Count. What a stupid name. At first it reminded Oliver of cereal . The man is certainly neither royalty nor vampiric. And he deals in man-made chemicals, not blood. The only correlation is the neck pricking. But this stupidly named man is still a threat. He is behind a tied up Felicity. Darkness invading her light.

He sees the hand playing with her hair, threateningly gentle. Then those hands caress and squeeze her shoulders, as only a friend or lover should, as Oliver has before. She flinches in a way he has never seen from her before. Every time he touches her shoulders she leans in or turns her head and smiles or covers his hand with her own. Sure, he has startled her once or twice, but he has never seen that particular movement from her before, there is so much fear, so much disgust in that jerk of her shoulders. Olivers hands fist and he grinds his teeth together so hard his ears pop and he is sure his enamel will crack. All he can think of is getting the Count's hands off of her. He would like to tear them apart. Rip off each finger and then sever the remaining stump at the wrist.

But the Count is talking and Oliver must respond. Then he sees the familiar motion of a person pulling a gun and his body reacts without thought again. He seems to be incapable of rational thought today. Bullets are flying and glass is shattering, but the Count sets the gun aside soon enough. His hand, his hand again is now fisted in her hair at the base of her skull, controlling. Their position in front of the huge window makes them both look small, vulnerable, an easy target.

Now Oliver has never really enjoyed killing and had rarely truly desired to kill someone. For all his faults pre-island, cruelty nor violence were among them. On the island he was forced to kill and it was often a necessary thing to do in order to survive. As the Hood it had just been how he was used to solving problems and it had been the easy way to do things. After Tommy and coming back a second time, he had made a vow and had stuck to it vigilantly. Right now though, he really wanted to kill. Drive an arrow like a stake through the monsters heart and see his blood leave his body.

Oliver, don't. Not for me.

He heard her and he remembers his vow, how important it is to him. So when he is told to lower his bow he does. He even fucking throws away his arrow. It's fine. He will offer himself to the Count, surely Oliver Queen and the Hood are a greater prize than a blonde nobody employee from Queen's Consolidated. He would be okay with dying for Felicity. His life doesn't matter. He has already escaped death so many times, he's lucky he has lived long enough to kiss his mother again, to see Thea all grown up, to meet Felicity.

But the Count doesn't take the offer. The needle moves and one, two, three. The vow doesn't matter compared to Felicity's safety. But his heart still feels hard in his chest when he hears the broken sound of a body hitting metal. His gives himself a moment, a closing of eyes, a single breath to apologize to Tommy, before he runs to her.

She does that flinch again when he first touches her and Oliver want to bury three more arrows in the Count's corpse for it. She looks at his face with such relief, eyes and nose still running, then immediately notices his wound. She touches him first, fingers barely brushing his sleeve so as not to hurt, but his blood still stains the tips bright red. She could have grabbed his arm though and he would have felt nothing, the injury is nothing compared to her safety. He cradles her neck, feeling her pulse, the warmth of her through his gloves. She smiles tremulously at him and he has to walk away. He wants to crush her to him and never let go, fuse their bodies together. But he can't. He has to get himself back under control, he has to put his mask back up.

It is so satisfying to see the body down there, broken and still leaking blood atop a taxi. The cops and sirens appear to remind him of the consequences of what he has done. It doesn't matter. He'd kill a hundred times more if it meant keeping Felicity from being hurt.

You have to go, Oliver.

She is standing slightly behind him, looking at the cops getting out of their cars, guns drawn. He leads her away from the broken window, hand firm on the small of her back, and to the elevator. She pushes the down button for him. When it dings he slides his hand up to squeeze her shoulder, because if he looks at her tear streaked face and mussed hair, he might not leave. The doors open and he leaves her there, he hates it, but he does it. He leaves her to the police and paramedics, to questions and reports. He knows Lance will be there and that gives him some small comfort.

He changes in the car and takes care of his wound before leaving. He calls Diggle as soon as he begins driving, informing him of what happened. Diggle yells, demands every detail and to know why he wasn't informed before everything went down. He finally calms down a bit when he is assured for the tenth time Felicity was not physically hurt. He says Good when Oliver tells him he killed the Count.

His sister nearly attacks him when he enters the courthouse again. He can't answer her questions. He is so drained. Thea truly looks at him then and he knows his normal mask is not in place, but he can't hide right now. She sees it, he knows she does, she can see something has affected him. She grabs his wounded arm and he really feels it for the first time. The lawyer comes back at that moment and he is thankful, because he does not feel strong enough to fend off a Thea inquisition right now.

All he can think about throughout the verdict hearing is Felicity. About halfway through he receives a text from Diggle informing him that she has arrived at Verdant and Oliver breathes a sigh of relief. He leaves the courthouse the moment he can, speeding to Verdant. It doesn't matter that he could just call and talk to her and Diggle. It doesn't matter that he only has about fifteen minutes before he has to rush back to his family. He needs to see her safe, away from broken glass and blood and needles and bullets.

She matters.

I kind of want to write a second part to this. It would be what happens right after all this and would be more shippy, more romantic, and, from what I know of the next episode, totally not canon. But idk. Let me know if you'd be interested in a comment and I might do it.

Oh, and I've never been good at ratings, I think T is okay. I've certainly written much darker, smuttier, gorier, and cuss filled.

Anyway thanks for reading, you're awesome.