"Oliver… Oliver," Felicity says softly, "I - show me where it hurts. And I'll make it okay."

Oliver reaches out, hand scrabbling until he finds her wrist. "Just… tell me that you'll stay. With me. For now."

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"I love you," he murmurs before he can stop himself. "I love you," he says again.

And then everything goes black.

When he comes to he automatically tries to sit up, but the ache in his chest stops him from getting very far. He exhales softly, realising he's not in the bunker anymore, and he's not lying on the cool operating table but instead in a warm bed. When he breathes in he can smell the faint, familiar scent of Felicity's perfume, and he closes his eyes, savouring the sweetness of it.

He's in the loft, he realises, in Felicity's bed. Oliver groans inwardly when she comes in, bearing a mug of coffee, for he remembers now what he said to her before he passed out.

"What am I doing here?" he asks. His tone is light, almost conversational, except he sounds more tired than he's been in his life, and there is an emptiness to him that he's never felt before.

She shrugs. "I figured you probably didn't sleep much the last six days. And my place was closer to the bunker."

There's a look on her face, as if she's trying to decide whether to sit down on the bed or not. After several moments she does so, her hand settling uncertainly on his knee above the covers.

Silence falls, and Oliver tries again to sit up. He manages to this time, with much effort.

"I got you coffee," she tells him unnecessarily as he picks up the mug and takes a sip gingerly. "And I finished patching you up."

"Thank you," he says gratefully.

She takes his hand, then, and squeezes it before letting go. "You never have to thank me."

"Felicity, I -" But he hesitates, because when their eyes meet he finds it impossible to look away, and then he's lost in the rich sea of grey and forgets momentarily how to form words.

"It's okay," she says quickly.

"No, it's not," Oliver says. "I - before I passed out. I said something."

"You did," Felicity says in a small voice. "But it's okay. You were sleep deprived and tortured by a serial killer - you weren't thinking straight."

"Maybe. But I was. And I do."

He doesn't mean to be cryptic, but it comes out that way anyway.

"Love me, you mean?" she says in the same small voice.

"Honestly? I never stopped." And it's strange that saying those words makes the burden on his heart so much lighter, even as he adds swiftly, "But I didn't have - an agenda. I meant what I said. You're better off as far away from me as possible - you, John, the rest of the team."

"Oliver…" Felicity whispers, and a solitary tear rolls down her cheek. "Don't say that. Whatever Chase did to you, we're going to get him and -"

"No, you don't understand," he interrupts. "It's over for me. I'm hanging up the hood. I never… I never should have put it on in the first place."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demands. Oliver just shakes his head, though, and to his surprise she softens considerably. "I guess I'm, uh, not one to talk. Seeing as how I've not exactly been forthcoming with you recently."

Without thinking he covers her hand with his own, and when he realises what he's doing he tries to tug it away, only for Felicity to cover his hand with hers, stopping him. His grip slackens, then, and he surrenders to her touch.

"I'm not really the best example when it comes to keeping secrets," Oliver says with the ghost of a smile.

"Well, how about… you tell me yours if I tell you mine?" she suggests.

"Only if you go first."

She chuckles. "Fine. I - have been involved with an organisation called Helix. They're a group of hacktivists."

"Like when you were in college?" he asks, and somehow he's not altogether surprised.

"Yeah. Except minus the whole dark hair and black lipstick thing I had going on."

He manages a weak laugh at that.

"Is that how you got John out of prison?" he asks.

"Yeah. And Helix is where I've been getting my intel. On Chase. On Susan."

"And, what, they just give you that info for free?"

"More like a quid pro quo thing," Felicity says, and there's no denying the slight unease on her face when she says that. "Which may have involved me doing some pretty illegal things in exchange for that intel."

"Felicity…"

"I know what you're going to say," she interrupts, but Oliver holds up his hand.

"Maybe not. I - may not be happy with how you're getting your information, but I'm not going to pretend it wasn't useful. Or the fact that you're a grown woman capable of making her own decisions… no matter how illegal they may be."

For a moment it seems like Felicity is rendered speechless. Then she finds her voice and says, "So you're not mad?"

"It's your life," Oliver says simply. "Your decisions. I respect that. I just hope you realise it could become dangerous for you is all."

Unexpectedly she leans forward and hugs him, arms going around his middle. He's still without a shirt and is surprised by the gesture, but he nevertheless hugs her back.

"What's this for?" he asks.

"Nothing, I just - thank you."

"I told you," he says, and he can't help but stroke her hair, "you never have to thank me."

Then she pulls away, looking up at him. "Your turn."

Oliver sighs, taking a deep breath. "You want to know what Chase did to me?"

She shakes her head. "I want to know why you want to hang up the hood."

"He tortured me."

Almost automatically, her hand goes up to the patch of gauze on his chest where his Bratva tattoo used to be. "Yeah, I figured that much."

"More than that, though. He… wanted me to confess something."

"What?"

He closes his eyes, unable to meet hers. "I… killed his father."

"So he wanted you to confess to that?"

"Not exactly. But he - had leverage. Evelyn…"

"Evelyn was there?" Felicity says sharply.

"Yeah. Chase wanted one of us to kill the other or he'd snap her neck."

"He didn't…" she begins to say, but he shakes his head.

"No, he just made it look like he had, and that was what broke me."

"You confessed?" she asks quietly.

"I did," Oliver replies. "I confessed what I was too afraid to say even to myself. I admitted to myself that I'm a monster."

"Oliver -"

He closes his eyes, remembers himself screaming the words to Adrian at long last.

"I WANTED TO! AND I LIKED IT!"

"I can't - tell you what he made me say to get him to let me go," Oliver says heavily. "That's how terrible it is."

"If this is about, I don't know, your body count while you were on the island -" Felicity begins to say, but Oliver shakes his head.

"It's something much, much worse."

"Then what -?"

"I told you. He made me confess to being a monster."

"You're not a monster, Oliver," Felicity tells him firmly. "You're not. You're still…" She hesitates for a moment, then says, "You're still the man I fell in love with."

"What are you saying?" says Oliver hoarsely. She leans forward, cups his cheek.

"I'm saying… I never stopped loving you either. I'm saying… we'll get through this together. God, Oliver, I'm saying I love you too, okay?"

But he can't accept that.

"You wouldn't if you knew the truth," he insists. "The real truth, about my past. If you knew what Adrian and Evelyn heard me say, you'd never look at me the same."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry, I - I have to go." Oliver gets up, then, swaying momentarily on the spot as his feet find their balance. To his relief a pile of his clothes are lain at the foot of the bed and he starts pulling them on as quickly as he can.

"Where are you going?"

He starts buttoning up his shirt. "The office."

After putting on his pants, Oliver grabs his tie and tries to do it up, but his hands are shaking too much.

Once again Felicity softens, going over to where he's standing and doing his tie for him.

"You've been missing for a week," she says, and she seems not to notice the way he holds his breath at their close proximity to one another.

"All the more reason why I need to get back to work."

"And, what, if you see Chase you're just going to act like nothing has happened?" she says in disbelief.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," Oliver answers, pulling on his suit jacket. "It's the only thing I can do."

"Oliver -"

"I meant what I said, Felicity."

"Which part?" she says, and her voice shakes ever so slightly as he bends down slightly to put on his shoes.

"All of it," he says quietly, without meeting her eyes.

But then he feels her finger go under his chin, lifting his face so his eyes are level with hers. Felicity's are shimmering, Oliver can see now, and she seems to be on the verge of bursting into tears.

"Hey, look at me."

Obediently he does just that, letting her cradle his cheeks with her hands. "I shouldn't have said what I said," he begins, "but that doesn't make it any less true."

"Then why -"

"Just because I still love you doesn't mean you don't deserve better. Because you do. The truth is, you're worth a thousand of me."

But at this she shakes her head. "Just the one will do," Felicity says softly, and it takes every ounce of willpower to force him to tug her hands away from where they've settled on his jaw.

"I'm sorry, I -"

And before he can stop himself he walks away, so she's cradling air, and she watches him go, crestfallen.