"The new lineup could use a little more green, Hoss," says Rene.

"I'm not quite there yet," Oliver says. "But I'm thinking that with this team behind me, it'll be sooner rather than later."

"Well, good," says Felicity. "Not that black isn't a great look on you and all, but I prefer the green."

Oliver smiles, turning to Felicity, just as the rest of the team murmur their goodbyes and begin to disperse from the room.

"I do too," Oliver admits, "but it's too soon."

"That's okay," Felicity says. "Take your time."

"You mean with the hood or with what Chase did to me?"

She considers. "Both. But, uh, speaking of which, your tussle with Anatoly may have worsened your injuries, so for the love of God, if you're not going to see an actual doctor can you at least let me check on your wounds?"

Oliver chuckles faintly, unzipping his jacket to reveal his bandaged chest. "Sure."

When he looks down, though, he groans inwardly; Felicity was right. Half his bandages are coming off, and the place where his Bratva tattoo used to be definitely looks infected.

"Oh, frack, that doesn't look good," Felicity says, frowning as she peers at his wounds. "Sit down, I'll clean you up."

She goes to the first aid cupboard and Oliver watches as he sits down on one of the more comfortable chairs in the corner of the room, wincing at the sudden pain he can feel. He takes off his jacket completely, and, closing his eyes, he peels off the gauze that is still half-attached to his chest.

"Fucking hell," he mutters under his breath, but Felicity still hears him, and she just raises her eyebrows at him as she sets down the antiseptic, gauze, cotton wool and tape on the table then gets down on her knees in front of him. She's got gloves on, but even so he has to hold his breath as she leans right up against his knees so she can examine his chest.

"Yep, that is definitely infected," she concludes, apparently not realising the effect she still has on him. "Perks of self-care instead of going to see an actual doctor."

"Doctors ask questions."

"At the very least you could have let me patch you up," she says.

"I wish I had," he admits.

"This is going to hurt," Felicity says apologetically, as she wets some cotton wool with antiseptic and carefully wipes the wound. Oliver winces. "Sorry."

"'S'okay," he replies. "Not as bad as what he did to me. He, uh, set fire to it," Oliver explains, and Felicity's hand stills on his chest.

"Oh my God," Felicity breathes. "He did what?"

"Yeah, he got a blowtorch and… said it would remind me of what he did to me every time I looked at my tattoo."

"I remember you telling me how you got this tattoo," she says.

Oliver remembers, too. They were in bed, listening to the sound of the ocean in Penang Island, when he told her the story of his time in the Bratva. He remembers her kissing that spot on his chest, while her hand trailed down to the tattoo Constantine gave him, and lower, lower…

"Oliver?"

Felicity's voice interrupts his train of thought - and just in time, too.

"Yeah?" he just about manages to say.

"What's on your mind?" she asks softly.

"I'm just… wondering how you got that footage of Chase," Oliver lies. Her gaze drops back to his chest, as she peels off the next bandage where Chase shot him with an arrow (he's bled right through it, but thankfully this one at least doesn't seem to be infected).

"Ah."

"Felicity, I know you're working with Helix. John told me. And… I don't know much about them, but they seem pretty illegal -"

"- like our operation isn't?" Felicity counters.

"- even by my standards," Oliver finishes. "And, look, you're a grown woman who can make her own decisions."

Unexpectedly she meets his eyes and smiles. "Thank you for noticing."

"But I just don't want you to get in over your head."

"I won't," says Felicity, dressing his wound with a fresh bandage. "Besides - look at all the intel I've got from working with them. We managed to save your girlfriend, for one thing -"

"She's, uh, actually not my girlfriend anymore," Oliver admits. "I - broke it off with her yesterday."

"You did? Why?"

"Because I was right all along," Oliver says with a sigh. "This life - I can't have both. I can't care about someone and be this - vigilante, this leader that everyone needs me to be."

"I seem to recall we did a pretty good job at it when we were together," Felicity says, busying herself with wiping away the dried blood on his abdomen and not looking him in the eyes.

"Yeah, until I screwed that up too," he says bitterly.

"But you looked happier, Oliver," she tells him, patching up the last of his wounds and then standing up, taking off her gloves. "Being with someone."

"I was happier with you," he tells her truthfully as he gets to his feet too.

Felicity closes her eyes, as though wishing they weren't having this conversation.

"You don't get to say that anymore," she tells him in a voice that is suddenly thick with tears. "I've moved on. We've moved on."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't… have an agenda, or anything. God knows, even if you did feel the same way after all this time, I couldn't… be with you if I tried."

Felicity takes off her glasses, wipes away the tears that have sprung in her eyes. "And why is that? Because of what Chase said?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Felicity - I was just - being honest. I didn't mean to -"

But to his surprise he breaks off as Felicity unexpectedly lifts her hand to his cheek. He closes his eyes, letting her thumb caress his jaw. "It's okay," she tells him softly. Her phone beeps, then, and she picks it up from the table and reads a text. "I have to go."

"Helix?"

"Yeah," she answers. She heads to the elevator and Oliver watches as she presses the button and the doors open. She steps inside. "But… Oliver?"

"Yeah?" he says, looking up.

"For the record… I was happier with you too."