There was no choice to make.

Felicity thudded her feet against the cement floor of the foundry, wrapping the blanket Diggle had draped over her a few hours earlier tighter. The silence in the foundry was interrupted by the whirs and muted beeps of her computers, the gentle creaking and groaning of the building.

Oliver's words turned over and over in her head. She could still feel the warmth of his hand against hers, the blue of his eyes, the stubble crawling up his jaw.

'He had you and he was going to hurt you,' Oliver had told her without hesitation.

Yet Felicity saw the shadows lurking behind his eyes, shadows she had put there or at least stirred up again. Oliver had killed for her tonight and that struck a chord deep inside her. Felicity knew she shouldn't read much into it. After all, he would have done the same for Diggle, Thea. Hell if it was Laurel Felicity was sure there would have been no indecision.

Shaking her head sharply, Felicity glanced down at her pyjamas and zombie slippers. She had come here to the foundry after the darkness in her apartment had seemed too suffocating. She had only just begun to feel safe in her own skin again after Barton Mathis and now all she could think about was The Count running his fingers through her hair, the blonde strands slipping as his fingertips jammed into the back of her neck.

Her hands immediately went up to her hair, the breath in her chest rushing out when she felt the thick wavy mass unbound over her shoulders.

You need to sleep Felicity. What good are you going to be to Oliver half-comatose at the office tomorrow?

Chewing her bottom lip Felicity cut her gaze to the mat Oliver and Diggle used to train and then to the cold, steel table that served as their makeshift operating table cum sick bay. Toeing off her zombie slippers at the edge of the mat, Felicity tucked a hand against her cheek and made sure she was facing the entrance. The lights blazed overhead and Felicity made no move to turn them off.

Just for a little while.


Oliver shrugged off his leather jacket, his helmet secured underneath his arm. Sleep proved elusive tonight. Each time he closed his eyes it was always either his mother strapped to an electric chair, or Felicity collapsing to the floor as The Count dosed her with his syringe.

His brow furrowed when the door to the foundry whispered open. The glare of the fluorescent lights made him pause and his muscles immediately tensed. Quietly depositing the helmet and jacket on the floor he made sure to keep his weight off the balls of his feet.

The sight of Felicity made him pull up short.

I'm sorry.

Oliver paused, studying the steady rise and fall of her breathing. His lips tipped up when he noticed the cartoonish slippers lined up neatly to the side and the egg blue polish decorating Felicity's delicate toes.

He made no sound as he edged closer to her, crouching down so he could hear her inhale and exhale.

I had to kill him because he knew I was the Hood.

Felicity's glasses were a few inches from her head. Oliver scooped them up, the solid plastic frame practically weightless. Felicity looked different without her glasses. The innocence that drew him to her was more open, her eyes wider and more prominent. Oliver would often watch the vast array of emotions flash through her eyes. It was one of the things that made Felicity so trustworthy – her emotions were always out there for the world to see, whether through her eyes or through her mouth. The healthy blush that would colour her cheeks whenever she made an inadvertent innuendo, the scrunching of her nose when she realized what she had said – Oliver took it for granted now that he could read Felicity.

Which was why seeing her in tears, lips quivering and body shaking, had been a blow to the gut.

Oliver dug his fingers into the thick denim of his jeans, remembering the way The Count had dragged her by the hair over to the window. The way Felicity had told him not to kill the bastard, because that wasn't who he was now.

He had you and he was going to hurt you. There was no choice to make.

He had put three arrows into The Count without any regret. When Felicity had apologized for making him take a life, Oliver had been briefly dumbfounded. Despite what she had gone through, Felicity still thought of him.

'I'm sorry,' she had said, hair askew and make up smudged.

There was nothing for her to be sorry for.

Somehow Felicity had found her way under his skin and Oliver wasn't quite sure what to do about it. If nothing else The Count had demonstrated the disastrous consequences of his enemies realizing Felicity's worth to him. First Mathis and now this…Felicity wasn't supposed to be touched by the evil that clung to him like a film of oil.

A muffled sob made Oliver glance sharply down. Felicity's mouth puckered and moisture dotted the plastic mat when her cheek lifted away.

'No. Not important,' she mumbled and Oliver stilled before slowly reaching for her. Her hair was silk as he smoothed it down, thumb going towards the lines forming in the middle of her forehead. He kept his touch feather light but Felicity seemed to relax, turning her face towards his hand. Her skin was cool to the touch.

'Ollie,' she sighed out.

She's a weakness Queen.

Oliver allowed himself a moment longer before gently extricating his hand. Looking back he found the pillar, settling against the hard surface and keeping his eyes on Felicity.

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

Somehow Oliver already knew that could wasn't the right word.