Chapter 3

"Freeze," he shouted, gun pointed at Felicity's head. She had no choice but to obey, and he stepped forward until the cold metal touched her forehead. She shivered and a cruel smile passed over his face. "You shouldn't have done that," he said and pulled the trigger.

Felicity's eyes snapped open and…she screamed, not expecting a man to be in her bedroom, at night and leaning over her. She screamed again and scrambled backwards, lashing out with her arms and throwing her pillows at the intruder.

"Felicity! Hey, hey, it's me, it's Oliver." He lent forward and switched on her bedside lamp, passed Felicity her glasses which she crammed on her nose angrily, then returned to sitting on the end of her bed, hands up in a placating gesture. He was wearing his usual jeans and a jumper, and a slightly apologetic look.

"Oliver!? What the hell!"

"You gave me a key, remember."

"Yes, but, not for this!"

"And 'this' is?" he asked with a smirk.

"For you to be, well there, in my bed, I mean on my bed…and I'm going to stop there. Sorry, why are you here?" Her phone, sitting on the bedside table, rang then and she signalled for him to hold on for a second. "Hello?...Yes, I'm fine Mrs Gettison…No, I did scream...Sorry for waking you...I saw a spider." She turned a deep shade of pink and closed her eyes, "Yes, I'm sure the young gentleman you saw coming into my apartment would be more than happy to deal with the spider…Thank you, Mrs Gettison. Goodnight."

"A friendly neighbour?" Oliver asked innocently.

"Be quiet," Felicity ordered, glaring. "Just stay there, I need a moment."

Getting off the bed she headed into her bathroom and closed the door. Looking into the mirror she cringed; her hair was a mess and she wore no makeup so her skin was pale and the bags under her eyes weren't hidden. She'd done well the last few weeks to get that past the observant Oliver. At least she was wearing something Oliver had seen before – she tried not to think of Oliver knowing her sleep outfits by heart – just an old t-shirt and shorts. Washing the sweat off her face she then grabbed her toothbrush and started to clean her teeth. Opening the door with the toothbrush still in her mouth she found Oliver on the other side, hand up ready to knock.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern in his eyes. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Yes, because entering a woman's apartment in the dead of night without her knowing and waking her up by hovering over her bed isn't going to scare anyone."

"You were having a nightmare," he offered.

"That doesn't negate the whole hovering over the bed thing, Oliver. Kind of makes it worse."

He frowned. "Why are you brushing your teeth?"

"I find mint soothing," she said before slamming the bathroom door in his face.

When she exited a minute later she found Oliver stretched out on top of her bed, arms behind his head and leaning against the pillows she had previously thrown around the room. Lifting up her side of the covers he silently gestured for her to get in.

"Are you asking me to go to bed with you?" Embarrassed, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling, "Why does this happen?" she asked the universe.

"It's cold," Oliver explained, "and the bed is comfortable."

He wasn't going to move and she knew for a fact that he was too heavy for her to move, so Felicity gave in to the inevitable and climbed back into bed.

"Why do you find mint soothing?" he asked curiously.

"When I was little and had to miss a day at school because I was sick, my grandmother would look after me. She had these little mint lollies that she gave me to settle my stomach. So any type of mint or peppermint reminds me of being looked after by my grandma. I have mint toothpaste – reminds me just as well while actively preventing cavities."

"And that works?"

"Yes. Surely you've got something that calms you; a comfort food, an old blanket or a childhood memory?"

"When I was younger and Thea was a little kid I used to sit in a rocking chair and read her stories. When Dad got the yacht, the Queen's Gambit, I loved spending time on it, the rocking of the waves. I-I don't find that soothing anymore."

"Understandably."

"What was your nightmare about, Felicity?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

"Pot meet kettle."

"I tell you the truth," he defended.

"You don't tell me about your nightmares. You just growl and go spend time climbing that stupid ladder thing."

"It's not stupid."

"You have never, once, as the Hood had to scale a building or climb anything using just a pole. It's redundant."

He stared into her earnest eyes. "I dream about the Island," he said bitterly.

"Well, duh. I knew that, I mean that is pretty much your defining moment." He glared. "I know you don't like to talk about it – it's very personal letting someone know what it is that scares you. So the Island scares you and the night of the earthquake scares me." She stared at him with a challenge.

"I can't," he whispered.

"I don't expect you to spill every little secret and tell me every little thing right now, Oliver. Baby steps, not that you're a baby or anything, it's just an expression because babies take small steps opposed to a fully grown adult, though technically babies try to step and end up falling at first, not that that should be applied to the metaphor…and I am talking about babies with Oliver Queen currently sharing a bed with me."

"Yeah, you are."

Felicity punched him in the arm, which hurt her more than him. "My point is, start small. Find someone you trust and talk to them. I know things are complicated with Laurel, but she's always been there for you."

"Complicated is an understatement," he laughed hollowly. "Hey, how did we end up talking about me?"

"Because you have more issues."

"Felicity…"

"You never said why you were here."

"You gave me a key."

"Yes, we've established that. But why are you here at this exact time of night?"

"I was visiting Tommy," he admitted. "Laurel stopped by, it got complicated and I guess I just wanted to speak to someone less complicated."

"Glad I could help," she mumbled.

"Are you falling asleep on me, Smoak?"

"It's my bed, what do you expect?" she yawned.

"This conversation isn't over," he warned.

She was already asleep.

Felicity woke with the strangest thought – that Oliver Queen had spent the night on her bed. Carefully looking out of the corner of her eye, in case it was true, she noted that there wasn't a man in her bed but that the sheets were wrinkled. Then the sound of someone moving around her kitchen met her ears.

"So it wasn't a dream," she murmured. Placing her glasses on her head she went to investigate.

"Find anything interestingly?" she asked dryly.

Oliver lifted his head out of her fridge, looking not a bit guilty. "Why do you only have leftover Thai food?"

"Because I haven't gone shopping," she said sardonically.

"Get dressed," he ordered.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm taking you out to breakfast and unless you want to go dressed in that, I suggest you go change."

"You are not the boss of me, Oliver Queen," she threatened. He smirked. "Okay, yes technically you are, but I'm not your indentured servant."

"Just get dressed, Felicity."

She huffed, but complied.

"So where are we going?" she asked for the third time as Oliver led her down to the street.

"To breakfast."

"You are really good at keeping secrets, you know that."

"Practice," he said moodily. He climbed onto his bike.

"I have a car, you know. It's great; has four walls and roof, five seats with nice socially accepted distances separating them. Did I mention the walls? Because there is nothing quite as reassuring as a metal cage between you and certain death."

"You've ridden with me before," he reminded her.

"Yes and those points were all valid then too."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer, reaching up to gently place his helmet over her head. "You'll be fine. Trust me."

"I'm pretty sure my father set down some very strict rules about boys and motorcycles," she muttered, climbing on behind Oliver and wrapping her arms around him.

Oliver laughed as they drove off.

"This is where you take me?" Felicity asked incredulously, looking up at the familiar sight of Big Belly Burger.

"Surprise," Oliver smiled, pulling her inside.

They took a seat in one of the booths and ordered, Oliver the breakfast special and Felicity waffles. The food came quickly and Oliver dug in while Felicity daintily picked at hers.

"You don't like the waffles?" Oliver asked when he was nearly finished and she had only taken a few bites.

"No, it's not that. These are great waffles. Just not hungry I guess."

"Why aren't you hungry?"

She shrugged.

"You've lost weight. You haven't been sleeping. You keep flinching at sudden noises. Felicity, you've got to talk about it."

"Why now, Oliver?" she asked, putting down her cutlery. "Why do you pick now of all times to take notice? Where were you last week when I hadn't sleep for three days straight? Where were you the week before that when I couldn't walk into the underground parking garage at QC without shaking? Where were you the week before that when Diggle noticed all of the above and talked to me about it? He explained what posttraumatic stress disorder was and how I should find someone to talk to. Problem is talking to someone about it kind of links to the whole secret basement, Vigilante thing."

"Felicity…"

She held up a hand. "Stop, please. Sorry, I shouldn't have gone off like that. My problems don't automatically mean they are your problems too. Excuse me," she got up and all but ran out the door.

Oliver quickly paid for the meal and followed, easily following her blonde hair through the small crowd. She stopped on the street corner, looking uncertain and upset. Walking up to her, making sure she could see him and wasn't about to scare her, he gently held her shoulders, stooping down so her could see her eyes. They were glassy with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I didn't mean to give you a guilt trip. I know you have a lot on your plate with your mother technically being a terrorist and your best friend being in a coma after you killed his father. And then there is your sister who is still trying to deal with all of it and your ex-girlfriend that you still have a thing for but she is confused what with also being in love with your best friend at the same time. And you can't forget the whole secret alter-ego and the fact that your complicated on-again-off-again girlfriend's father is trying to hunt you down, though for the moment he's called a truce. And I didn't even cover the five years of emotional stress being stranded on an island."

"But you forgot that my IT girl is having nightmares and that I can't help but worry about her," he said softly. "Even if I was a bad friend and didn't notice it when I should have."

"See this is why I didn't want you to know. You're feeling guilty."

"Felicity, did you visit Tommy in the hospital and leave him flowers?" She looked confused at the question, but nodded 'yes'. "He isn't anything to you though."

"He doesn't have any family," she shrugged. "And he's your friend."

"Felicity, you have always been there for me. You trusted me before you even knew the whole story and then you saved my life and my secret when you found me shot in your car. You obviously know all about my trials and tribulations," he offered a tight smile. "All I ask…no, all I want…is that you let me do the same for you. I'm not perfect, I have my own issues to sort through, but you let me lean on you, so it's only fair that you lean on me."

"Okay," she said, looking a little dazed. She didn't think she had ever heard Oliver talk that much about himself in one go.

He pulled her into a solid hug which Felicity hesitantly returned. "Baby steps, Felicity," he whispered. "You don't have to tell me anything, but you do have to talk to someone."

"I know," she said into his chest.