My most humble and sincere thanks to:

Oceania (you know why.)

To all who reviewed, followed my story. I guess I'll still have your support.

Enjoy

(Loved 'Keep Your Enemies Closer!' )

In the darkest of all ages, in the most painful of all moments, hope was all that had held her together, luring her into believing the existence of miracles. Piece by piece, her soul was hollowing. All the happy memories of the world she once lived in, the causes she deeply cared for- evaporating, finding their way into the heart of someone else, as naive and guileless as herself. Her lyrical laughter and the sparkle from her eyes froze, as the chilly winter air settled down her face, congealing her vibrant aura into the dullness of a lifeless corpse. Innocence was the first part of her soul to die that day. And while it happened, he stood still, watching the dreadful metamorphose of a life full of hopes to death without purpose.

Oliver winced, horrified at the turn of events and watched in terror as his peaceful evening drastically changed into a ghastly night. When he was required to act, to take steps, he stood still, feeling as if time had stopped and waiting for the nightmare to end. He looked at Laurel, watched as she laughed and smiled, grateful to be saved, to be the chosen one. And, then, as slowly as he could, he met her painful gaze. And, finally, when he stood to approach her, the police had come. Oliver very well knew to leave in order to protect his identity.

Oliver woke up with a jolt, ending a nightmare he had been having since months. Unwary of his surroundings, he was surprised to find himself in his room at the Queen's mansion. After spending innumerable nights in the hospital by completely ignoring his professional and social life, Oliver felt that he needed to start new.

He walked the hallways of his house. With his mother and Thea gone, the house proved to be large and lonely for him. After preparing a little breakfast for himself, Oliver gave a call to Diggle, who came half an hour later.

"Nice sky outside." Diggle announced as he entered the Queen mansion for the first time in a few months. He was pretty surprised when he received a call from Oliver, this morning, who had been so quiet since a couple of months.

"So what are you planning on doing today?"He asked.

"I don't know," Oliver let out a sigh, "Maybe, you could tell. No crimes in the city?"

"Many. There have been many. You just need to pick one." Diggle replied. He was going to say more but stopped abruptly when he realised what Oliver was thinking. After since the incident with David Mathis, the hood was quite inactive, maybe duo to his failure in the one field he thought he excelled in. They, Oliver and Diggle, had once been to the warehouse. But, her absence felt stronger than ever. They'd just realised that they were just the field guys, the inside job was all hers. And, without her assistance, it was difficult to do anything.

That was the last night he had seen Oliver, until today. Drunk as he was, Diggle had a hard time driving Oliver to his home.

"So?" Oliver asked lightly, breaking him off his chain of thoughts.

"Well, you could visit your company. I'm sure your partner would need your help."

The atmosphere at the Queen Consolidated was the most different. Everything was in its place, running smoothly. As if, his absence was not noticed.

He walked towards his office. As alarming as it was, he found a similar figure sitting in her place, eyes focused on the screen. But as he moved closer, he realised it was Isabel Rochev.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded calmly.

"Oh, Mr. Queen! What a surprise!" she smiled, "You see, since your blond secretary resigned, I applied for this job. Well, I don't really major in secretarial arts, but, then, you don't really see the qualifications, do you?"

"What are you doing here?" Oliver asked again.

I could ask you the same thing. What are YOU doing here?"

"I'm the CEO of this company." Oliver said, still trying to maintain his calm.

"Then, Mr. Queen, the most careless CEO of any company in the world, I would like to tell you that this party," she said as she shoved an invitation in his hands, "You miss it and I'm giving you a hard time."

It had been an eventful evening, after so many of his futile ones. Talking, smiling and drinking with numerous business associates Oliver didn't even know, he finally retired to a lone corner of the large hall, indulging himself into thinking the incalculable blunders he had committed in his life.

'Lira for your thoughts?"She whispered. Dressed in a close-fitted, elegant evening dress, Oliver admitted that she looked breathtaking. Her black, Chanel halter-neck accentuated her curves and the colour of her eyes. Her perfume was overpowering and her hair had a silk-like texture.

"Isabel Rochev," he smiled, "You look good." Oliver watched as she sat beside him. It had been two hours since he had been trying to find her. Although, he hated this woman from the core of this heart, today, in a room full of strangers, he found her company soothing. As tough as she pretended herself to be, she was soft from the inside and had a disturbing past. She was so sensitive, so conscious. She could be flattered by compliments, though not deceived.

"A long evening it is," she declared, "I can't believe you made it. Guess you didn't have other important things to do." She said. Oliver stared at her, amused at how hard she was trying to be cold to him. Both of them knew that they could make such good partners in business and maybe something more...

"You look good." He said again, honestly.

"I heard you before. And, isn't 'looking good' a bit of an understatement?" She raised an eyebrow, smiling coyly as she turned and twisted her hair.

Moving closer, Oliver leaned towards her, "What else do you want me to say?"

"Well, something like: Ms. Rochev, this meeting we have tonight, what's it actually about? You see, I don't want to be standing like some jerk when we talk to the associates." They both laughed as she finished.

"You really think I'm a jerk?" Oliver asked, still laughing.

"No, I think you are smart. You just spend a hell lot of time pretending something you are not." She said delicately as she moved closer, only to be inches apart from him.

They just stared at each other, unwilling to break the gaze, the silence. As he stared into the depth of her eyes, he saw an unexpectedly different side of her.

"Oliver?" somebody called out. The voice was hard, manly, Oliver recognised. As both of them turned to look at the interrupter, their faces brushed with each other.

Oliver felt a strange kind of urgency in Diggle's voice. Before following Diggle, who had left the hall, Oliver in a moment so impulsive, placed a quick kiss on her cheek, thrilling them both.

"I might need a few personal days." Diggle said, holding a small suitcase.

"Why? What has happened?"

"Have to help a friend. She went to Russia to look for Dead Shot for me. Now, she's in trouble."

"I think it's time we visited our Queen Consolidated office in Moscow."

"You don't have to do that. I didn't ask for help."

"I know you didn't"

"Look, I know you want to help but I cannot let you," Diggle paused and, then, continued, "I told her that if she couldn't come, nobody can."

"Who?" Oliver asked instantly, later regretting it when Diggle uttered her name.

Felicity...Guilt and horror flooded in his waves.

The doctor's words had struck him like a storm. Cannot speak? Because of me. Cannot speak? It was a moment of pure alarm. Tears filled his eyes as he thought of the unnatural fate he had given her. Each day, he watched her helplessly, watched as she grew pale with each passing day. Oliver had flooded the hospital with money, booking every doctor for one sole patient. And in return, when she gained her consciousness, when she could write to deliver her wishes, the first one was addressed to the staff. It was about him. He remembered each word, each stroke of her quivery handwriting. She had simply written, requested that Oliver should not be in the same hospital as her. She didn't want him near her.

After a few more months, when she was out of the hospital, he visited her. She had kept the meeting short. Before he could even speak, she struggled, using whatever little voice she had, "Oliver...I can," She took a breath, "barely speak. Whatever," she paused again, after speaking what seemed like such a long word, "little I've, don't want to waste it one you."

That night when he had visited the Arrow Warehouse after months. That night, after which he had cut himself off the outside world. Drunk as he was, without Diggle, he couldn't even walk a few blocks.

"Felicity! Please! I just need to talk to you!"

"Shut up, jerk! People are trying to sleep." Felicity's neighbour, a pimple-face man, yelled out from his window. Oliver ignored him and continued calling out for her from across the small lane. He could see her shadow from behind her thin, lacy curtains.

"Felicity!"

She had paused and was probably in a dilemma. The rain pelted into his eyes and he rubbed at them, trying to catch a glimpse of her figure- those amazing curves in between girlishness and womanhood. Finally, the curtains parted and she glanced outside before shutting them again.

"Felicity, please. Just a second!"

"I said shut up!" The man from the next door threw a spit bomb down at Oliver who deftly jumped out of the way.

Her figure disappeared from the window and he knew she was coming down. She appeared with an umbrella.

"Fel, please just one more chance." He gushed as he held her with her shoulders, pulling her close.

She tried to move, but couldn't move out of his firm grip. Unwillingly, she looked at him. At the person for whom she could give her life until a few months ago. When she realised he wouldn't do the same for her. While, Oliver searched her face for any sign of forgiveness.

"I had been such a fool," he broke down, "I just didn't realise..."

Felicity's own eyes were filled with tears and as a tiny drop dripped down her eyes, Oliver kissed it. He felt a surge of emotion he wasn't accustomed to feeling. Without warning, he kissed her full on lips. When he pulled away and looked at her, he found her gazing at him coldly.

In broken sentences, she spoke, "Go home, Oliver. It's over."

To be continued, I guess?