"So, got any special plans for your weekend off?"

I smiled and shook my wet hands out into the scrub sink. "I am going to do laundry, clean my apartment, call my mom and spend the rest of the time watching the backlog of recorded shows I have on my DVR."

Digg gave me the most pitying look I'd ever been subjected to. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Not at all. It's going to be great. I've been looking forward to it all month."

"Felicity, you are a young, independent woman. You can't be spending precious time off you have behaving like a 60-year-old spinster."

"Au contraire, Digg. The fact that I am a young, independent woman means I get to behave however the hell I want. Within the bounds of reason, though. I'm not going to like, go and knock over a liquor store or something."

He sighed. "Would you at least have dinner with Lyla and me? Tomorrow night, after I get off my shift. You need non-hospital, adult stimulation."

"You're technically part of the hospital," I pointed out.

"Not after 8 p.m. tomorrow I'm not. Come on, Smoak. Live a little."

God, I hated that phrase. The fact that I was walking and talking and blinking and breathing meant that I was living. I was alive, however small a gesture that seemed to everyone else.

"I'll get Lyla to make her mashed potatoes."

Oh, now that just wasn't fair.

I grumbled and threw my head back in defeat. "Fine. I'll be there, but to be perfectly clear: I'm only there for the mashed potatoes. I'm going to this thing purely under duress."

Digg chuckled. "I will take note. See you tomorrow night."

"Bye."

I had just finished my last surgery of the day. It was the only thing keeping me from my weekend, a whole forty-eight hours off. A whole two, glorious days without blood and as far away from the hospital as possible.

After I changed, I felt my phone vibrate in the back pocket of my jeans. The number wasn't one I recognized, but it was a U.S. area code. Frowning, I answered, "Dr. Smoak."

There was a loud sniff. Then, "Hi. Um...this is Thea Queen."

I stopped in my tracks. Well, this was a surprise.

"Look, I'm...I'm really sorry about snapping at you. Before, when you called me to tell me about my brother. I was just...shocked, is all."

I sat down on the bench in front of my locker. "No, I get it."

"I got his letter this afternoon. But since I could actually read it, I knew it wasn't Ollie's handwriting. So was it you?"

I smiled. It was cute that she knew her brother so well. "He came up with the words. I just wrote them down."

"Thank you, though. Thank you for doing that for him. For me. Especially after I was such a colossal asshole to you."

"It was nothing."

There was another loud sniff, then silence. Finally, after a prolonged moment, she asked quietly, "How long do you think? Before he's fully recovered?"

"I couldn't say for sure. But he'll probably have to stay here for the remainder of his deployment."

I heard a whoosh on the other end, almost as if she was letting out a deep breath. "Is it bad that hearing that makes me feel relieved? I mean, I hate that he's injured and in a hospital, but it also means that he won't be in danger for a while."

My voice got soft. "No, I get it. It makes sense."

"Is there any way I could talk to him? Any way at all? Could you please just bend the rules, just this once?"

"I'm afraid I can't. We can't allow cell phones because the cellular waves interfere with the technology."

She sighed again. "I'm going to kick his ass the next time I see him."

I grinned at that. "Just not too hard, OK? We went to pretty great lengths to patch him up and I'd hate to see my work undone."

She gave a weak chuckle. "Right."

"Thea, do you need me to talk to your parents as well?"

"Uh…" There was a lot of hesitation in her voice. "Well, the thing is, our parents don't really know that he's in the Army…"

My eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah. No one really knows that he's in the Army. Tommy Merlyn and I are the only ones. And now you, apparently."

What the ever-loving fuck. "Then where the hell does everyone think he is?" I demanded.

"They think he's backpacking through Asia. Doing some...mountain climbing and soul-searching and stuff."

Jesus Christ. This guy had so many secrets he should have been working for the CIA instead of being a grunt in the Army. "OK, well in that case I think I'll just let you handle it."

"Yeah, probably for the best. Look, if anything changes could...could you keep me updated?"

"Of course."

"And could you also smack him in the head for me?"

I smiled again. "I don't know about that, but maybe I'll have a hard time searching for a good vein the next time I need to draw his blood."

She laughed. "I'll take it. Thank you, Dr. Smoak. And could you...could you tell him I love him?"

"Of course. He'll be glad to hear it. Take care, Ms. Queen."

When I hung up I got back up, ready to go home. But then I realized that even though I knew Thea was OK, the person who needed to know the most didn't. I turned on my heel, resolving to tell Oliver about my phone call with his sister, then heading home to numb myself with trashy television.

He was flipping through the television channels aimlessly when I got there, the most bored expression. "Hey."

He turned his head when he heard my voice and his face lit up. "Hey, Doc. Where are your scrubs?"

"I have a life you know," I teased. "I do things outside of this hospital."

"No, I don't believe that. You're like an elementary school teacher, you never leave this hospital. You just power down and hide in a supply closet until the work day starts again."

"Ha ha. Just for that, I don't think I'm going to tell you what Thea said when she called me."

That sure caught his attention. He sat up straighter in his bed, but winced at the movement. "Wait," he grunted. "Thea called you?"

"Yeah." I smirked, sauntering closer to his bed. "She said she got your letter. She told me she was sorry about yelling at me before and that she loves you and that she's going to kick your ass the next time she sees you."

He beamed widely. "Of course she did."

"You seem awfully happy considering she threatened you."

"It just means she loves me. She'd never want me to come home dead, because then it would deny her the pleasure of killing me herself."

I laughed and shook my head. "Well clearly I don't understand your family dynamic. Anyway, I just stopped in to tell you your sister called. And now I am off to enjoy a weekend away from this dump."

"Any plans? A hot date, perhaps?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, right. "Sure, if a basket of laundry counts. Take it easy, Oliver."

"Have a good weekend, Doc."

Digg and Lyla lived on the fourth floor of a brand-new apartment building, constructed specifically to house those who worked for LRMC and their families. It was a gorgeous building with crazy amenities, and Digg's seniority won him a coveted spot. It also helped that Lyla was pregnant when they were moving.

I got to their door and knocked. A few seconds later, it opened, with Digg's enormous body blocking the frame.

"Hey," I greeted brightly. "I brought a bottle of Lyla's favorite wine. Since she's finally finished breastfeeding, I figured she deserved a celebration of sorts."

"I just want to say for the record, it wasn't my idea." His voice was low and conciliatory, and his face was apologetic.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Uh...so the wine was a bad idea?"

He sighed. "No, the wine is fine, it's just...don't kill me or anything. And don't kill Lyla. Her heart was in the right place, OK?"

Before I could ask him what the hell he was talking about, he pulled away from the doorway and let me in. I stepped across the threshold of their apartment, inhaling the gorgeous scent of roasted garlic.

"Mmm, Lyla, are those mashed potatoes I smell?" I tugged my sweater off and threw it over the hook on the coat rack by the door. Then I sauntered toward the kitchen with my bottle of wine. When I got there, Digg's wife was standing at the stove with an incredibly tall, dark-haired man beside her.

"Felicity!" she exclaimed. Dropping her spoon, she rushed forward to hug me. "Thank you so much for coming. I want you to meet my friend Ray. Ray, this is Felicity Smoak. She's a doctor at Landstuhl with Johnny."

I was confused by Ray's presence, but I tried not to let that show. "It's nice to meet you," I said, reaching my hand forward to shake his.

He returned the favor with a grin that was too wide and stayed too long on his face. "It's nice to meet you, too. Lyla's told me so much about you."

My smile froze on my face. "Oh she did?"

"For the past few months at the office she just hasn't been able to shut up about you, and I thought to myself, this Felicity must be extraordinary. I just have to meet her."

"Oh, well I'm not all that extraordinary," I hedged. Setting the bottle of wine down, I slowly backed away from them. "Um, if you could just excuse me for a minute, I forgot that I had to ask Digg a question about, um...something with the, uh, the patient. The patient who needed a transplant for the thing, just — excuse me."

While I had them both sufficiently confused, I sped away from the kitchen to find my traitorous friend. Unsurprisingly, he was hiding in Sara's nursery, holding her like a shield from my ire in his gigantic arms.

"You invited me to dinner so you could set me up on a blind date?" I hissed.

"No," he insisted. "No, I did not. I invited you to dinner because you needed to spend time with other adults outside the hospital. It was Lyla's idea to invite Ray."

"Oh, and that's another thing," continuing on like I hadn't heard him. "You set me up with a guy named Ray?"

"Now come on, what's wrong with the name Ray?"

"Everyone knows Rays are serial killers! They're the kind of serial killers who stalk their prey on Craigslist personals, then date their targets for a couple of months all while plotting an elaborate kill that ends with a body hanging upside down from the ceiling by their ankles, completely drained of blood!"

"What the hell kind of books are you reading where that's a thing?"

"It doesn't matter! The point is you lured me to your apartment with the promise of amazing potatoes and a stress-free evening only to trick me with some dude with a serial killer name and a serial killer smile!"

"Felicity, I know you're mad, but I swear to God I didn't have anything to do with it. Lyla was just trying to look out for you. She thinks you're too lonely and that you need to get out more."

I clenched my jaw. "I'm leaving," I announced. I turned on my heel and was about to stomp out of the nursery, but Digg was too quick for me.

"Wait, come on now," he said, grabbing a hold of my shoulder. "It's just dinner, not like a lifetime commitment. We're not marrying you off to this guy, we're just asking you to spend one evening with us, and partly with him."

"Digg — "

"When was the last time you went out on a date?" he challenged.

My fury rolled off of me in red hot waves, over and over again as I balled my fists at my side. I wasn't getting into this. Not with Digg, not with anyone.

"It's been five years since it happened, Felicity."

No it wasn't. It might have seemed that way to everyone else, but it happened every time I fell asleep. Everyone said the wounds should have healed by now, but how in the world could they heal when my subconscious ripped them open every night?

"It's like you've been alone, on a deserted island for the past five years. Well here's a news flash for you, Felicity Smoak: people care about you. I care about you. And it's time you came back to the mainland. It's time you start living your life."

Tears started forming and rolling down my cheeks without my permission. "I am living," I insisted bitterly. "My heart is beating, my blood is pumping and my brain is functioning. I'm alive, and that in and of itself is a fucking miracle. I don't know what the hell else you want from me."

"It's not what I want from you, it's what I want for you. And what I want is for you to be happy. I'm not saying Ray's the guy to do that, but opening yourself up for the first time in five years could be a step."

I still had my back to him, but I could hear him walking up to face me. He passed his tiny child to me with his gigantic arms. Automatically I reached toward her, cradling her against me as if it was second nature.

"Why don't you hold Sara and think about it. I'm going to help Lyla with dinner."

I narrowed my eyes at his retreating back when I realized what he'd done. He used his adorable kid to anchor me in place. He knew I couldn't just leave, especially with his daughter staring up at me with the cutest eyes in the whole fucking world.

Sneaky, smug bastard.

"Your dad doesn't play fair," I murmured to Sara. Then I pressed a soft kiss to her fuzzy head, but she didn't pay any attention as she made clumsy grabs for the pendant hanging around my neck.

Ten minutes later, Digg came to inform me that dinner was ready. By then Sara had already fallen asleep in my arms, so I set her gently in her crib and grudgingly followed him out to the dining room. Ray and Lyla were already seated, leaving me to sit on the opposite side of my ignorant blind date.

After we'd all sat down and settled, Lyla turned to me. "I made extra mashed potatoes for you, Felicity, so you'd be able to take the leftovers home with you."

My smile was strained, but I tried my hardest. "Thanks, Lyla. You make the best mashed potatoes in the world."

"Now I don't know about that," Ray protested with a laugh. "I bet my grandma could give you a run for your money."

My hands clenched over my utensils, but I could feel Digg's pointed glare in my direction. My plastered grin wavered as I turned my attention across the table. "Sorry, dude, but you've never tried Lyla's potatoes before. She either puts crack in them or some other illegal substance because they're addictive."

Lyla laughed graciously. "Oh, my potatoes are good, but I'm sure there are plenty of other amazing recipes out there in the world. Now go on, everyone. Eat."

We started digging, so conversation ceased for a minute. After a few minutes, I decided to bite the bullet and just dive right in.

"So, uh, Ray. How do you and Lyla know each other?"

"We work at ARGUS together," he answered. "I'm in op tech. Making things, mostly. She's the one who's actually going out and saving the world, I'm just making the stuff she uses."

"His designs are brilliant," Lyla beamed. "His technology has gotten us through more than a few scrapes, let me tell you."

"Oh?" I said blandly. "Do tell."

And from there he launched into a full 10-minute speech of almost everything he'd ever made at ARGUS ever. Being a bit of a tech geek myself, I found some of it interesting, but it was hard to participate in a one-sided conversation and I found my attention drifting away from the conversation.

Instead, I started wondering what I could have been doing right now if I wasn't stuck in Digg's apartment. I could have been folding the piles of forgotten laundry in my apartment. I could have been catching up on mindless American television. I could have been cleaning out my keyboard.

Or I could have been at the hospital. As much as I needed two days away, I could have caught up on paperwork and charts. I could have organized my locker. Or I could have hung out with Oliver, forcing him to watch another movie he mistakenly believed was of the little girl's genre.

"So what about you?" Ray asked, which jolted me back to the present. "Lyla mentioned you were a doctor at LRMC."

"Uh, yeah. Digg and I are both trauma surgeons."

"Really? I find that fascinating."

"It can be," Digg nodded.

"Does that mean you get to operate on mangled soldiers?"

His innocent question had the effect of basically throwing me head first into a pool of ice water. I felt cold everywhere, and the generic smile I had fell immediately. "Yeah. We do."

Ray was either an idiot or just completely oblivious to the mood change. "What's that like? Is it exciting? I imagine you guys must have some really great stories."

Digg and I didn't like talking about it all that much. It wasn't that we didn't do great work — we both had incredibly low fatality rates, which made us some of the most sought out trauma surgeons in the world. But despite the many success stories we had, the ones that didn't make it still haunted us, and it was hard to explain to people who didn't understand.

"Let's not talk about surgery at dinner," Digg said gently. "Let's talk about something else. Lyla, did you see the other day when Sara started to pull herself up in her crib?"

I shot Digg a grateful smile. He might have done it for himself as much as he did it for me, but it was still a huge relief not to have to talk about it.

Dinner continued without much more incident. We didn't bring up work again and Ray and I even bonded a little over a shared interest in computer technology. By the end of coffee, I grudgingly had to admit to myself that it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. I mean, there was no way I would probably go out on an actual date with this guy, but it was nice to spend some time outside of the hospital not talking about the hospital.

As I stood to leave and donned my sweater, Lyla packed up the leftover mashed potatoes for me. "Oh, and Ray, could you walk her home?" she said as she handed me the tupperware container. "She's on your way."

"That won't be necessary," I quickly interrupted. "I can handle myself."

"I know you can, but I'd feel a whole lot better if you didn't have to."

"It's OK," Ray said with a smile. "I'd be happy to."

Ray had his back turned to Lyla, who winked at me. I just glared at her in return.

We gave our last goodbyes to Digg and Lyla, then headed out of their apartment. Once we were out on the streets, I wrapped my arms around myself, hoping it wouldn't give the guy any ideas. Like to reach over and grab my hand or something.

"So where do you live?" he asked.

"Just a few blocks south."

"Well what do you know. It is on my way."

We walked in silence for a little while. Then Ray said, "It was really nice of Lyla to invite me to your dinner. It's been a while since I was on such an obvious set up."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, me too."

"So what's the story with that? Surely there's a story."

I looked down, watching my feet step one in front of the other. He was right, but it wasn't a story I was particularly inclined to tell, especially to a complete stranger.

"She just thinks I'm too lonely. That I spend too much time working." I looked up at him. "What about you? I'm assuming she dragged you out tonight too."

He shrugged. "I used to be engaged. Her name was Anna, but she died right in front of me, in a freak accident back in Starling City."

Oh.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. It was a shitty, inadequate phrase that didn't encompass even a fraction of all the empathy I felt for him in the moment, but it was all I had.

"Yeah, well." He sighed. "It was five years ago, so I figure it's finally time I move on. Lyla seems to think so anyway."

I smiled in spite of myself. "In my experience, she's usually right."

We were rounding on the corner of my apartment when he asked, "So, do I still seem like a serial killer to you, or is it going to take a second date in a public place to convince you?"

Blood rushed to my face and my jaw fell in horror. Oh God.

"Oh, Ray...I'm uh, I'm really — I didn't mean that, I was just — "

He laughed. "No, I get it. Anna used to say the same thing too. She said sometimes I'd get too intense and it looked like I wanted to kill her or something. But I promise, I've never killed anyone before."

I smiled weakly at him. Too bad I couldn't say the same. "I'm still really sorry. It was before I talked to you."

"Well I hope I've changed your mind."

We stopped at the door to my apartment and I smiled at him. "I don't think you're a serial killer anymore, but I'm holding off judgment."

"I'll take what I can get." He was so tall that he had to look down at me, but it didn't feel that condescending. "So would it be possible that I could ask you out? Maybe to coffee or something?"

The wall around my heart sort of clenched immediately, but I tried to hold off my automatic defenses. Maybe Digg was right. Maybe it had been long enough and it was time for me to start.

But even the idea of starting again with this Ray guy made me want to run up to my apartment and hide under a blanket and a bottle of Jose Cuervo and never emerge.

"I really don't know, Ray. I just…"

My words trailed off because I didn't have any left. I didn't know if I had anything left at all.

He nodded. "Felicity, I understand. How about we just exchange phone numbers and go slowly by starting as friends? Because regardless, I'd really like to be your friend."

The pounding in my veins slowed and I grinned at him in relief. "I think I can do that," I told him.