AN: So, this is my first foray into the Arrow fandom. Caught season 1 on Netflix, and fell in love. Felicity took me by surprise at the end of the Season, I was solidly in Laurel's corner until the last 3 episodes or so. Spoilers (and a few lines) from Episode 2x06, Keep Your Enemies Closer. Boy, title makes a ton of sense NOW, doesn't it. The characters, of course, are not mine. And sorry for any typos, had to get this OUT of my head so I could sleep.

Felicity sank into the warm bath water, willing the heat of the tub to finally drive away the bone-cold chill that seemed to have stuck with her since their return from Russia. Oh, how she wished things had been as simple as she had made it sound to Oliver when she knocked on his door and had found Isabel leaving. . . looking perfect, and yet perfectly mussed at the same time. It had been blatantly obvious what had happened. Glaringly obvious. She really wished that she could leave what had happened in Russia in Russia. She wished that she could compartmentalize and separate things as well as Oliver seemed to.

Except the minute that thought came into her head, she felt a wave of guilt. Because as much as Oliver Queen tried to hide it, he was not coping well. She knew it. She could see, even though he thought she couldn't. Or perhaps he wished she couldn't. She exhaled, then sipped from the wine glass sitting on the sink. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Think warm thoughts, think warm thoughts. Instead, she saw pained blue eyes looking at her. He thought he hid the pain, but she could see it. She could hear the undercurrent of it as he spoke.

"Because of the life that I lead, I think it's better to not be with someone I can really care about."

She exhaled, growling her frustration. Because what in the world was she supposed to do to keep from thinking about that. She was probably reading too much in to what he said. In fact, she was nearly certain of it. But irregardless of whether or not Oliver had feelings for her, he deserved some modicum of happiness. After all of the pain and loss he had suffered, he deserved to love and be loved. To have someone know him and love him for who he was.

She could even understand that he needed to reach out, to be with someone. He didn't always welcome it from her. She thought of the night he had discovered Sara Lance was the Black Canary. She thought of the pain in his eyes, and his insistence that he could carry the weight of this secret on his own shoulders. She remembered how she had hugged her arms around herself as they had spoken, because there was a part of her-a part that was growing stronger every day-that wanted to reach out and embrace him and let me know the weight of the world was not only on his shoulders. That she would carry it with him, and do so gladly. But he wouldn't allow it, she knew. So she waited. Just as she had waited for five agonizing months to look for him. They had waited to seek him out until the situation in Starling City was so dire that he would not be able to say no to coming home.

But, God, there was only so much she could take sometimes. As if the rumors flying around Queen Consolidated were not enough. As if the fact that Oliver had simply disappeared after the Undertaking, without so much as a goodbye or a note was not enough. No, there was always more. There was the horrendous trip alone in the car from the airport in Moscow to the hotel with Isabel.

Isabel had sat across from her in the back of the car, appraising her with cold, shrewd eyes. "You can kid yourself all you want, you know Felicity," Isabel had said. Felicity had glanced at her, then turned back to watching the dingy scenery pass by her window. Unfortunately, Isabel did not let that deter her. "Everyone at Queen Consolidated has an opinion on how you ended up as Oliver Queen's EA. But you should know, you don't really have any hold on him at all." Isabel had leaned forward in her seat. "You are nothing but a dalliance, and he will certainly take anything better that comes along."

Felicity had turned toward her then. "You don't really know anything about Mr. Queen's character at all, Ms. Rochev."

Isabel had smiled at her then . . . one of those condescending smiles that could make a lesser person feel inadequate. "Be certain to call each of our holdings and arrange a time for us to visit in the morning. And I would like breakfast promptly at 8am. Toast, dry, and fruit. Bottled water. And of course a coffee." Isabel had prattled on with some other commands. Felicity wished vehemently to inform Isabel that she was, in fact, Oliver's assistant, not her hers. But in the interest of keeping the peace, she had bit her tongue and taken notes like a dutiful assistant. Instead of an MIT graduate.

The whole exchange had been a lot less humiliating BEFORE she arrived at Oliver's door and had seen Isabel's smirk as she left his room. That was what had made things unendurable. She could understand that he needed someone. She didn't expect it to be her. She just wished it hadn't been Isabel. Felicity shivered again.

She took another sip of her wine. Warm thoughts, warm thoughts. Oliver had been back in Starling City for only five weeks. She had volunteered herself up as serial killer bait, had swung out of a sky rise window by a blind cord, and had been almost certain that Digg would not make the return flight home. Tomorrow she would have to go back to work and smile at Isabel Rochev, and at Oliver, pretending that nothing had changed. Because really, it hadn't. She was still the same person. Oliver was still the same person-carrying the weight of the world on his scarred shoulders. When the weight-and his self imposed isolation-became too much, he became human and slipped up. He claimed what happened between him and Isabel was a mistake. That it didn't mean anything. She supposed that was better than him feeling something for the wicked witch. Finally, she smiled. And felt warm. Tomorrow was a new day. And while it would bring challenges, she and Digg would stand by Oliver's side as they faced them head-on.