When it became clear that Sebastian Blood was the only casualty at Moira Queen's fundraiser, Diggle swung the car back around. The ride back to Felicity's was tense as they listened to the police chatter coming in from all over the city. By the time they pulled up in front of her place, they had a basic outline of the evening. Slade Wilson had been preparing to introduce Moira Queen when the masked Alderman had stormed into the fundraiser, ranting like a madman, and racing towards the dais. Security had shot him down almost instantly. The description of his death made Felicity flinch. It was exactly what she'd been afraid would happen to Oliver.

Diggle walked her to her door and then followed her in, carrying the cardboard box full of drugs into her townhouse and placing it onto her kitchen counter. "You want something to eat?" he asked, eyeing her cautiously.

Cheesecake sounded good, but that was best eaten alone and in darkness. She shook her head in refusal. "I'm not hungry."

She hacked into the hotel's security feed instead and she and Digg watched the full footage from her new sofa, in her new townhouse, with the boxes she still hadn't unpacked stacked haphazardly all around them.

When they'd reviewed it all, Diggle frowned at her tablet. "I don't get it. Slade throws a benefit for Moira and Blood decides to throw it all away by making a public spectacle of himself? It doesn't make any sense. Why go after Slade somewhere so public?"

Her brow furrowed. "He was wearing a mask. He must have thought no one would know."

He shook his head. "Or maybe he didn't have a choice. Maybe the guy Laurel killed in the other mask didn't have a choice either."

They watched the footage again, saw Blood rush the ballroom and then fall to his knees, reaching into his pocket for what witnesses claimed was a weapon. They couldn't tell what he was going for, because as soon as Blood made the move someone on Slade's security detail shot him. It looked the way it did in the movies- a small puff exploding out from his chest before he fell face down onto the marble floor. Felicity paused the footage and studied the scene. Oliver was standing up at the front of the room in his tux, having already pushed Thea behind him for protection. His hand was on his mother's arm, pulling her back even as he moved forward, his worried eyes locked on the figure that would turn out to be Blood. She scanned the image again; taking in the way everyone else in the room had reacted. The Governor was being hustled out the back and the rest of the guests were either running away from their tables or hiding under them. The only person that remained still was Slade, who didn't seem bothered by the scene playing out in front of him at all - his eyes were focused solely on the Queens. Felicity gently ran her finger over Oliver's frozen image, as if she could protect him from that gaze, and then flipped the cover of the tablet closed.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I'm thinking Laurel might have been right about Blood being a bad guy."

"Score one for the Lance sisters, I guess." She thought for a moment. "I'll hack into SCPD and take a look at the police report before I go to bed."

"You really think you need to worry about that tonight? Oliver probably has his hands full."

"I'm not doing it for Oliver," she said, the words tumbling out before she really had time to consider them. "I'm doing it for us."

"For us? Why?"

She could have said anything and he would probably have believed her. Could have said that Slade wasn't taking a night off, or that she couldn't let a mystery sit there without at least attempting to solve it, but she would have been lying. "Digg, I'm not going to work with Oliver anymore."

Diggle eyed her skeptically. "You've had a long night. Maybe you should sleep on it."

"There's no need."

"Have you told Oliver, yet? Cause I have a feeling he's not going to like it."

She shrugged. "He'll just have to get used to it. There's room in Starling City for two operations."

Digg's eyes narrowed. "Two operations?"

"Yeah. Oliver's and ours." She hadn't put all that hard work into saving the city to simply walk away now.

"Felicity-"

"I know," she interrupted. "I get it. You need someone a little more bad ass for a side kick. I agree. You should totally ask Lyla to do it. Temporarily, at least."

Diggle frowned. "Side-kick?"

"But Lyla isn't going to leave ARGUS permanently, right? I mean, the vigilante life doesn't really pay the bills. With me, you know, the computer stuff is a given, the first aid basics are covered, and I already know how to get a suit and weapons without raising suspicion. Plus, I'm sure Detective Lance will help us out, seeing as he only started working with the Arrow in the first place because he liked me."

Digg didn't nod his head in agreement, or move at all really, which was worrying. Sure, she didn't have the muscles or the deadly accuracy with a weapon the guys had, but she was a valuable member of their team and Oliver was going to have a hard time replacing her. Digg wasn't exactly getting the short end of the stick here. "If it helps, I'll even start going to that cross fit gym you made me join."

She smiled over at him, but he didn't smile back. Was he trying to figure out a way to let her down easy? Was there a way to let her down easy? "Digg, I'm trying not to be offended, but you're looking at me like I'm speaking Russian. Which, am I speaking Russian? I don't think you can pick that up by osmosis."

Digg's eyes finally met hers. "I don't need a sidekick, Felicity. I'm out."

"Out?" she asked, swallowing hard as she tried to process what he meant. "Like, out out?"

"Yeah."

She nodded and then looked down, watching as her hands fisted in her lap. Was he serious? When he'd walked away she hadn't thought it was into retirement. She looked back up at him and a sense of hopelessness swept through her. "Digg, I'm not sure I can do this without you."

His eyes rounded. "Felicity, you shouldn't do this at all. This is an opportunity for you to get your old life back. Leave Starling City's problems to Oliver."

What he was saying didn't make sense. The needs of the city hadn't changed and the mission hadn't only been Oliver's for a very long time. "I can't do that."

"I'm not sure you have much choice."

"So, that's it?" she asked him, irritated by the possibility of him being right. "Oliver and Sara make one terrible decision and I can't escape it? My life totally changes because they can't control themselves?" She shook her head, looked up at the ceiling and barked out a bitter laugh. "Wow. I so fully get Laurel now."

Diggle's lips quirked. "This was always going to end sometime. This is a happier ending than I thought was heading your way."

"A happy ending for you, maybe." Felicity said, rubbing her forehead. "You'll run off with Lyla to do stuff with ARGUS but what am I supposed to do? Go back to hacking for fun? Fix laptops that actually have had lattes spilled on them? What's the point?"

"Why not look at this as an opportunity? You can do anything you want. You could head down to Central City and join that CSI team of Barry's. You could really be there for him when he wakes up."

"Is that even going to hap-" She bit her tongue before she finished the thought. Even after all this time, she wasn't going to admit that Barry might not wake up. Because he was going to. Yes, Barry was going to wake up with a shy smile and they were going to have long, flirty conversations about the mysteries of the universe for the rest of their lives. Barry was really the guy she should be focusing on. She bet if he were awake he'd never rip off her underwear and then abandon her to go kill a madman. Her stomach dropped. "Oh god," she gasped, her eyes rounding, "Did I just cheat on a guy in a coma?"

"Wait." Digg said after a moment. "Were you actually dating Barry?"

"Yes. Well, no. It was more like friendship with intent," she mumbled. "It doesn't matter now. I'm so going to the special hell."

Felicity shook her head in horror at her love life. Or lack of a love life. Which wasn't exactly the right way to describe her situation either. What was it called when you had a crush on a guy who was totally unobtainable, but then met another guy, a really wonderful guy, who thought you were the unobtainable one because he knew that you liked the first guy? And what was it called when that new guy was struck by lightening and ended up in a coma for months, while the first guy was injected with a rage inducing serum that had him pressing you against the wall of the secret lair you fought crime out of and confessing his undying love?

Ridiculous. That's what it was called. The universe could not be any clearer. "I should just join a convent," she whispered.

Diggle laughed. "I don't think the Catholic Church is in the market for nice Jewish girls."

"Foiled again," she sighed, collapsing back against the cushions. "Why is everything so complicated?"

It hadn't seemed like it was a few hours ago. When she and Oliver had been fighting and she'd issued her ultimatum, the threat hadn't been empty. That was before they'd kissed though, before Oliver has said what he'd said. With three little words he'd laid claim to a small but essential piece of her and she'd given it to him easily, placing it inside him with equal parts hope and trepidation. It was a stupid thing to have done. For all his pretty words he probably wasn't even aware that he now carried her more fully with him. Anxiety rolled through her in waves and she shifted nervously on the couch. Her satin cocktail dress felt tight over her chest as she started imagining all the terrible things that could be happening to him while he was cut off from her. She was perfectly safe where she was, but panic induced adrenaline started coursing through her veins, as if somehow her own life was in immediate danger.

"Oliver is fine," Diggle said softly, his hand reaching out for hers. "Take a deep breath."

She did. One breath after the next, in and out while Digg rubbed circles on her back. The panic started to fade, but she still felt unbalanced, like her whole world was shifting. It would only get worse, she reminded herself, if her actions ended up permanently severing their ties. They hadn't been apart for very long, how would she get through a whole day tomorrow? Or any number of days after that?

Oliver was right, she realized, thinking back to what he'd said all those months ago. She'd thought he'd been making excuses, but he'd been telling the truth- it was dangerous to be with someone you could really care about. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. How did Digg and Lyla do this?

"It's not easy." Diggle said softly. "And I wouldn't say that we've got it down to a science."

She turned and looked at him, pleased that her thoughts had slipped out for once. "No?"

"Well, we're still divorced, Felicity, so you know. I wouldn't say that Lyla or I are relationship experts."

She smiled and nodded softly. "At least you're trying."

"You could do that too, you know. Try working it out with Oliver."

"I'm not sure what the point would be."

Digg shook his head. "The two of you have been circling around each other since the day you met, Felicity. He might not be ready to admit it, but that boy is in love with you."

"He did. Admit that. He said he's, you know, in love with me."

"Wow," Digg said, his eyebrows lifting a little. "I wasn't sure he had it in him."

"It's amazing what a little Mirakuru can do."

"Felicity," he said softly. "Come on."

"Come on, what, Digg? Before he took it he made it clear that he wasn't interested in pursuing anything with me and then tonight, even after he told me, he still walked out. He said what he said, but he chose the mission. A stupid mission, by the way. One that we all knew would end badly."

"Well, maybe the two of you should discuss it."

"Why? I told him that I wasn't going to help him any more if he went to that hotel. He went. If he didn't think I was serious that's his problem."

Diggle blew out a breath. "Felicity, you're asking for trouble."

"It wouldn't be the first time." She leaned back into the sofa cushions, the material of her dress tugging uncomfortably. She needed to change. She needed to get out of that stupid dress, take a shower and crawl into bed. Tomorrow morning she'd make pancakes and after she'd eaten a gluttonous amount of them she'd figure out what her next move would be. It was too much to deal with tonight. "I'm tired, Digg."

"You want me to stay? I could hang out on the couch, keep an eye on things."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"And I wouldn't be one."

She smiled, knowing he meant it. "I'm fine. Really." He looked at her carefully as she got up off the couch and she could tell he wasn't convinced. "Besides, Digg," she said with a yawn. "It's not like I'm the first girl a guy with a secret identity has left behind in order to go kill his enemy."

Digg considered her words as he stood and followed her when she moved towards the door. "You think it's a common problem?"

"Could be," she said, shrugging. "Mob wives probably deal with this sort of thing all the time, right? And mob girlfriends. What are they called, molls? Is that even a word now?" She stopped for a moment and looked up at him. "Do you think they call them that in the Bratva?"

Diggle smiled at her fondly as he zipped up his jacket, which was about as much of an answer as she expected from him on the subject. "Whatever," she said, trying to keep herself from rambling on as she opened the door. "It doesn't really matter."

Diggle looked outside, but didn't make a move to leave her apartment. "Seriously, John. Go home and be with Lyla. There are two pints of ice cream my freezer and I won't be able to eat both of them if you're here watching."

"One of these days, we're going to talk about how unhealthy it is to eat your feelings."

"Are you really complaining about my coping skills? At least my method doesn't have a body count."

"Fair enough," Digg said, smiling as he stepped out. "How about we talk about you getting out of town for a while instead? With everything that's going on maybe now is a good time to check on Barry. Or to go visit your mom."

"Visit my mom? Wow. Things must be dire."

"It would just be for a little while."

"I can't go," she said softly, following him onto the landing. "They wouldn't have taken the Mirakuru if I hadn't put it in their hands. I can't walk away until I figure out some way to help them."

Digg stared out into the night for a long moment and then nodded. "Then I'll help you."

Relief flooded through her as she pressed up on her toes and brushed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, John."

He hugged her and then made his way to the car. "Call me if you need me," he called out as he climbed inside.

She nodded and then waved as he drove off into the darkness.

Sunlight had barely begun easing its way through her curtains when Felicity's eyes drifted open. She groaned, irritated that she'd woken up when she was sure she'd only just crawled under the covers. She stretched her legs out as she rolled onto her side, purposefully ignoring the soreness in her thighs as she lifted her head up a little to check the time. She squinted until the clock on her nightstand came into focus- it was quarter to six in the morning. Her head flopped back down onto her pillow and she pulled her blankets up over her head to block out the light. It was a good plan until the air around her face grew stiflingly warm. She lightly kicked her limbs free from her cream colored sheets and Tiffany blue duvet, relishing the feel of the cooler air as it rushed over her skin.

She was seconds from drifting back to sleep when a throat cleared down by her feet.

Adrenaline surged through her and she surrendered to her instincts, the way Diggle had said she should in a fight. Her hand darted out towards her nightstand, grabbing for the round, silver alarm clock she'd looked at a moment ago. She snatched it up and whipped it towards the sound as she bolted upright.

Oliver's form came into focus as he moved to protect his face, the alarm bells of the clock clanging dully as they smacked into his muscular forearm and deflected down onto the floor. He was sitting towards the bottom of the bed, his mouth hanging open in surprise, her feet just inches away from the side of his leg. If his reaction had been a fraction slower she'd have totally beaned him. "It's me," he said, his voice stunned, as if it was the first time that someone had lobbed a projectile at him.

She kicked at the side of his leg in irritation. "What the hell, Oliver?" Her heart pounded wildly against her rib cage and she scolded herself for being so spooked. She should have known it would be him. Who else would have the audacity to sit at the foot of her bed like he belonged there?

He rubbed at his arm, but her vision was too blurry to make out his expression. "Sorry," he said as she reached over and turned on the small lamp next to her. She fumbled for her glasses and slid them on.

When she could actually see him she almost felt guilty for kicking him. He looked like hell- well, the handsome, bedraggled, movie star version of it. He was still in his tux, but the circles ringing his eyes were darker and his stubble was heavier than he usually wore it. Her cheeks tingled a little as she remembered the rasp of it on her skin. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," he said quietly, his eyes finding hers.

That didn't do anything to help slow down her heart rate. "Yeah, well find a way that's a little less creepy next time, okay? Because this-" she said, waving her hand back and forth between them, "is unacceptable."

He nodded and leaned down over the edge of the bed, scooping up the alarm clock and then offering it back to her. It didn't escape her notice that he moved closer to her as he did so. "Here," he said softly.

She reached for it and when his long fingers brushed against hers she had a flash of what it had felt like when he'd slid them inside her the night before. She blushed furiously, snatching the clock away and clunking it down onto the nightstand with a thud. She felt clumsy and awkward sitting there with him, in a way that she hadn't when they'd been at the Foundry. It wasn't fair. This was her home and he had no right to be there. "I don't remember giving you a key," she said pointedly.

He shrugged. "I assumed it was an oversight."

"No, but if that makes you feel better..."

He nodded, his eyes moving around her room slowly, taking in the bright, geometric Kandinsky prints she had hanging on her walls. He stared at one for so long that she started to get nervous. Oliver had been known to zone out when he was in a mood. She didn't want him to just sit there staring at her walls for the next six hours.

"Sebastian Blood is dead," he said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was tentative, as if he thought she'd be upset by the news, but she felt relieved. Not about Blood's death- she was just glad Oliver had spoken instead of going into some sort of trance. The last thing she needed was another non-responsive guy in her life. Poor Barry.

"Digg and I heard it on the news last night. They said he was going after Slade?"

"That's what it looked like it," Oliver said as he slowly began peeling off his tuxedo jacket.

Her eyes rounded as she watched him, unsure of what she should say or do. There was no need for him to be taking his clothes off like that. She bit her lip as he slipped his second arm free from the dark, expensive material. His bowtie was already untied and the way his collar was undone was very distracting. "This isn't good," she mumbled softly, her eyes tracing the slow rise and fall of his Adam's apple.

He shrugged. "I'm not sure what to make of it."

She focused back on Slade and Blood as Oliver tossed his jacket onto the lightly tufted grey bench that ran along the foot of her bed. He seemed to be settling in, which was the opposite of what she wanted. He needed to go. "Well, thanks for the report. Feel free to just call next time." He looked at her curiously, which was irritating because the curious thing was him sneaking into her house at the crack of dawn and undressing.

"The guard that took out Blood," he began again, ignoring her dismissal, "was from Slade's security detail. Sara shot one and he didn't even blink. She thinks they've been dosed with Mirakuru."

Felicity nodded, trying not to panic at the thought of more overly muscled, invincible hot heads running around in the world. It was a surprising thing for Slade to have done. "Does Slade really need bodyguards?" she asked. "I mean, what does he even have to be afraid of?" Oliver's brows flew up.

"Aside from you, obviously," Felicity rushed. "You've got the scary arrows plus all of those muscles. Although, his might be bigger." Oh god. She wasn't getting any of this right. "Sorry," she said before clamping her mouth shut.

Oliver didn't really acknowledge her apology. He just shrugged and started fiddling with the cufflink on his right sleeve. "Do you think…" she began slowly, her words fading off as he slipped the small piece of black onyx from the hole in his shirt's cuff.

"Do I think what?" he asked, moving onto his left cuff.

What was he doing? The jacket she could see taking off, formalwear wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wasn't like his wrists could feel overly restricted from a cufflink, was it? "Do you, uh, think he knew Blood was coming for him? Or was that his plan, showing you he'd made some super soldiers?"

"No, that wasn't his plan," he said softly, placing the cufflinks on top of his jacket. He looked older all of a sudden and a little lost, his face going slack and his body hunching in until he seemed smaller. "He wanted me to know he's going to fulfill a promise he made me."

"What promise?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, turning back to face her. "I'm not going to let it happen." The look of fear and worry that flashed in his eyes when they met hers made a chill run down her spine.

"Oliver, what aren't you telling me?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he leaned down again, this time to grab a tall, white, lidded cup from the floor. "I brought you a coffee," he said softly, offering it to her. It was the fancy kind from the shop a few blocks away, with foamed milk and caramel. All thoughts of Slade ceased as she stared at it. Was that really his post awkward sex move? A macchiato?

"It's not a move. I was- I was thinking about you."

Frack. "I, um. Well, I didn't mean to say that," she said, carefully avoiding any skin to skin contact as she took the cup from him. "Out loud at least." Her fingers traced along the rim and she wondered if drinking it would send a mixed signal.

"I've been thinking about you all night." Oliver said. Her hands stilled against the cup. She'd once had a fantasy that started with him saying those words. In it his voice was confident and smooth, like velvet, and he'd come up from behind her, his hands wrapping around her hips as his mouth began moving over her neck. Now, though his fingers were flicking against each other anxiously and his voice was embarrassed, as if he were ashamed to have thought of her at all. She nodded slowly, her lips pursing into a frown, and she reached back to place the coffee on her nightstand.

"I want to apologize," he said, his voice sad and soft and sincere. It struck her as strange that it was this same voice that made other men cower, that made other men crumble when it crawled in their ears.

She nodded and gave him a small smile. "I don't know," she said lightly. "Aside from the part where I cried the whole time, I thought the sex was pretty good."

His eyes hardened. "I'm not sorry about the sex."

She shifted under his gaze, her fingers starting to nervously pick at the hem of her fuchsia cotton sleep shorts. "What are you apologizing for, then?"

Oliver's eyes grew watery as he lifted his chin, his head tilting up and back in a small, jerky motion. "Everything else." He blew out a shaky breath and swiped at his eyes with the thumb and middle finger of his right hand. "You have to understand that I didn't know, Felicity," he said quietly. "When I took it I didn't know."

"Didn't know what?"

"How I would feel. How intense everything would be. I was surprised."

"But you knew what the Mirakuru would do."

"I knew there would be anger and fear. But I didn't expect the constant pull between that and this." He blew out a breath. "It would be easier if it were Sara."

"If what were Sara?"

"We hoped that it would be, but neither of us were sure," he continued. "We talked about it being Laurel."

"Talked about what being Laurel?" she asked nervously, not really sure she wanted to have this conversation.

"My person," he said, with a small shrug of his shoulders. "Sara was worried it would be her."

"Your person? You mean your anchor?"

"Sara and I talked about it, before I took the Mirakuru." He looked over at her guiltily. "I was worried it would be Shado."

"Shado," Felicity said, repeating the name as if it would help to make sense of what he was telling her. She'd have thought Laurel too, if she were being honest. It wasn't exactly surprising. Oliver was so tight lipped about the time he'd spent with the girl on the island that she'd never been quite sure what their relationship was. "Really?"

Oliver nodded. "I worried Slade and I would be the same. That I'd lose my mind the way he did. I thought the choice I made then might…" His eyes glazed and Felicity reached over, covering his hand gently with her own while he lost himself in the memory for a moment. "I still feel her with me when I put on the hood," he confessed softly, his fingers lacing with hers. "And I dream about her." He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers again. "But what I failed to consider was that I also dream about you."

There was a rushing sensation in her head, as if a thousand lines of code were snapping into place and spilling a company's secrets to her. "You were always here," Oliver continued, his voice catching a little as his hand lightly brushed over his heart. "It was hard to ignore, but I wanted to do right by you. I was proud of that. And Sara coming home made it easier."

The room was spinning. Or maybe it was just her head. Whatever it was she felt a little nauseous.

"But I should have known," he said slowly. "I've never only loved Sara. Not then and not now."

Oliver looked over at Felicity with guilty eyes and she pulled her hand away, flexing it before tucking it back into her lap. "Dreaming about me doesn't mean you're in love with me, Oliver. Or that you're not in love with Sara. I'm not even sure you can say you know how you really feel right now. The Mirakuru enhances-"

"No. I meant what I said last night. But that's not all there is to this." He rested his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his hands. "I haven't told you everything."

Of course he hadn't. That was Oliver's problem in a nutshell, wasn't it? Never giving someone the full story, but expecting them to act as if he had. She reached back to the top of the bed and grabbed her pillows, making a stack before leaning back into it and crossing her arms over her chest. "So tell me."

He slid his hands rapidly over his head a few times and then gripped the back of his neck before sitting up, his somewhat manic eyes seeking hers. "I can't stop thinking about you," he said almost angrily, his voice intense. "I've tried. I have tried hard, but I can't. If we're in the same room, I'm working every moment, every second not to touch you." His hands clenched at his sides and he took a deep breath, steadying himself. His voice was a little softer when he spoke again. "And when you aren't around, it's like I'm drowning. There's this weight on my chest."

His eyes met hers again and they softened. She wondered what she looked like to him then, hair mussed from sleep, no makeup on, and barely dressed. She never let him see her like this anymore. She'd changed her whole wardrobe when he'd made her his EA and it had become a sort of armor for her. The bright colors and solid construction of each piece intentionally selected to almost force people into looking at her. It had worked. She was rarely ignored or dismissed by their associates these days. She wondered if she'd sent a message to him too, though, that she was tougher or more confident than she really was. She wondered if she looked younger like this and if that would scare him. Maybe it would be too much to remember the girl who'd been in over her head when they first met, the girl that had cowered under her desk in panda flats.

Oliver moved gracefully then, sliding himself higher up the mattress until he was next to her, the side of his hip brushing the outside of her thigh. He reached out his hand, placing it against her cheek, and the feel of it suddenly drove home the danger of being this near to him. "I can't even sleep."

Her mouth went dry as his gaze tracked from where his hand was touching her down to her lips. She was hyper aware of where they were, how little she was wearing, and how easy it would be to just give in to this pull between them once again. He had to go. Now. She pulled his hand from her face. "Oliver, you're tired-"

"I am tired," he continued, leaning over her and placing his hands on either side of her body. "I'm exhausted." She watched, a bolt of desire shooting through her as his hands clasped her hips firmly. He tugged, pulling her body down, her back sliding over the pillows she'd been propped up on as he eased her flat against the bed. "I close my eyes at night and you're in my head." His eyes raked over her body and she realized her tank top had bunched up beneath her breasts as she traveled. She started to pull it back down, but his hand landed over hers and stilled it.

"Oliver," she said unsteadily, knowing she needed to stop this, even though she was going to kick herself as soon as she did. "We can't do this again." She really wanted to do this again, especially now that they had unlimited time and a softer surface, but she knew it wasn't any sort of solution to their problems.

"We can," Oliver whispered before leaning down and kissing her. His lips were warm over hers, eager and sweet, with the promise of something more thrilling to come if she'd let it. His body was trembling and she reached up, her hands touching his face and she drew him closer, kissing him back in earnest, surprised by how much she'd missed the feel of him. He sucked on her lower lip and then pulled his mouth away, his eyes darting down to watch as his fingers spread out over her partly exposed abdomen. "I dream every night that you're with me," he murmured softly, trailing his hand up to catch the bottom of her shirt. He skimmed it back up over her ribs gently. "I wake up reaching for you." He shifted, sliding his body down the bed and pressed an open mouthed kiss against the soft swell of her stomach before turning his head and gazing up at her heatedly. He nuzzled his stubbled cheeks into her belly and it was like sparks bursting through her. Felicity's hand fell onto his head, stilling it as she worked to find her breath.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered, but for the life of her she couldn't remember why.

"It's not," he murmured, his hand sliding up under her shirt and over one of her breasts. His eyes were shiny with desire as he swept his thumb over her nipple. "I'm hungry for you." He turned his head, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin and she licked at her own lips. What exactly was bad about this, again? He rolled one of her nipples between his fingers firmly and smiled against her when she gasped. Every doubt she had left her and she reached down, sliding her hands over his shoulders, to pull him up. "Come here, Oliver."

In an instant he was climbing onto her, but when she tugged him higher, he sat back, positioning himself just over her knees. He smiled down at her, but there was no sweetness to it, only heat. His eyes were dark and his mouth slack, he looked predatory, as if he was going to make his mark, as if she would never escape him again. Felicity shivered.

"I want to taste you." He traced along the waistband of her shorts with his fingertips, making her squirm before he leaned over to lick a line from the bone of her hips up the middle of her body. "I've been craving you," he said roughly, pushing her tank top the rest of the way up to finally reveal her breasts. "All the time. For weeks now." He let his darkened eyes run over them, watching as the sensitive skin pebbled slightly in the cooler air. "Last night made it worse," he whispered, shifting his body again and balancing himself on one elbow as he slipped his hand into her sleep shorts. Felicity blushed when she realized how wet she was, her cheeks flashing hot as her hips rocked against his hand involuntarily. "I can still feel you." He slid two fingers inside her easily and then lowered his head, swirling his tongue over a rapidly hardening nipple.

Felicity's back arched, Oliver's fingers crooking as they slid even deeper and she drew up a knee to give him more access. He clamped down on the tight bud in his mouth, applying steady pressure and she turned her face towards her nightstand, calling his name out loudly and moaning when he slowly dipped another finger into her. "You like that, Felicity?" he asked, his voice entirely too rough to be teasing, and when she nodded, he bit down lightly. Her eyes rolled into her head and when she could focus again they landed on her clock. She almost laughed when she thought about his face when she'd thrown it at him earlier. Everything about this was so surreal. She'd never even touched her coffee. How had they gotten here?

His mouth drew away from her breast. "Why weren't you waiting for me at the Foundry last night?" he asked softly before blowing a soft stream of cool air against the warmed nipple. Her eyes flew back to him.

"I told you," she rasped out as his thumb pressed against her clit. "I told you if you went I, um, I couldn't, uh, I couldn't work with you anymore."

"I didn't believe you," he began, his voice breathy as he pulled back, running his hand over her other breast before lazily flicking a finger against that nipple. "I thought you'd be there when I got back." He wrapped his hand around the soft mound and swirled the flat of his tongue over the straining nub before sucking it into his mouth sharply. She arched up off the mattress again, his name flying from her lips as she ground against his hand. He looked up at her, taking in her reaction and she felt a wave of possessiveness run through her at the way he was watching her. He smiled up at her. "The explosive surprised me."

"I thought you'd be arrested." He slid his fingers out of her and cut off her groan of protest with a kiss. "I couldn't think of another way to get rid of the evidence," she murmured against his lips, her hands sliding up over his sides as she began tugging his shirt from his pants. "Why do you have so many clothes on?" she asked, pushing the two of them up to sitting as she began unbuttoning his shirt.

He leaned back on his haunches and Felicity followed him, chasing his mouth as she pushed herself up onto her knees. "I didn't want to get arrested," he said, shucking off his suspenders. "I wanted to stop Sara." Felicity kissed him, sliding his shirt off his shoulders until he could shrug out of it. When his chest was bare she ran her fingers lightly down his pecs and he smiled, nuzzling his nose against hers. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have left you." His mouth slanted back over hers and then he pushed her playfully back down to the bed. He ran his hands down her sides and hooked his fingers into her waistband.

She nodded. 'Yes,' she thought, 'he had just gone to stop Sara.' It made sense. She lifted her hips so he could slide her shorts off more easily. She could believe that. Sara had been the danger, not Oliver. Sara.

Sara.

Her friend's name was like ice water being thrown over her and every single reason why they couldn't do what they were currently doing came flying back into her head. "No," she said, her hips crashing down as she sat herself up. Oliver wrapped his arms around her waist, mistaking her intent, and hauled her into his lap. His mouth latched onto her neck, his tongue laving at her pulse point. Her hands flew to his face and she pushed him away as she leaned back. "Stop, Oliver."

His eyes were glazed over with lust and he panted, his unfocused gaze sliding over her breasts as he tried to work out what she was telling him. She hastily pulled down her shirt and began scooting her way off his lap. His hands tightened around her instinctively, drawing her back and locking her in place.

She pulled at his arms. "Let go."

His expression was soft and confused and he licked his lips as his arms fell away. His eyes ran over her. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

She stood up, readjusting her shorts before she scrambled off the bed on shaking legs, practically stumbling into the wall before turning back to face him. He was still sitting on his knees, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and his lips had swollen a little. He looked beautiful and she felt a sharp jolt of want for him. 'No,' she told herself. 'No.' She bolted into her en suite bathroom and closed the door.

"Felicity," he called, his voice ragged, "what's going on?"

She flipped on the light and caught site of herself in the mirror. Her hair was tousled, her lips full, and her skin was rosy and glowing. She eyed herself carefully and pointed a finger accusingly at her reflection. "Oliver Queen is not your boyfriend." For some reason, the mantra didn't appear to be as effective when her lips were bruised from his kisses. It probably also didn't help that a small voice in her head was suddenly whispering that maybe he could be.

She shook her head. No. No, he couldn't be. He was someone else's boyfriend and even if he weren't, that totally wasn't the biggest issue they were facing. He was all seductive words and magic fingers now, but what would he be later?

She'd been attracted to Oliver since he'd walked into her life with a lie on his lips and a laptop full of bullet holes and maybe she always would be. But the person that she wanted, the person that had made her head spin hadn't been around recently. He was different now, darker, angrier, and more violent, and while he'd always battled those demons, this Oliver didn't seem overly bothered by them. He seemed to be embracing them when he'd turned his back on her, on Diggle, on everything they'd been working towards. In fact, the only issue he was struggling with at at the moment was that he had feelings for her. Hadn't that been the implication of what he'd just finished telling her? His feelings for her were some sort of burden. She needed to remember that.

She grabbed her fluffy yellow robe from the back of her door and wrapped it around herself like armor before yanking open the door. Oliver was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shirt loosely held in his hands. "You have to go."

He shook his head and looked down, his hands fisting into the white material "Why?"

"How about Sara?"

His head jerked up, his eyes rounding. He nodded. "Felicity, Sara and I- we're not- I don't think-" Oliver looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. "My relationship with Sara is complicated."

Felicity crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not sure that it matters."

His head tilted sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that nothing has changed since last night. Complicated or not, she needs you, Oliver, and I'm still done with all this."

He was on his feet and in her space in the span of a heartbeat. "You're done! Just like that?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"You let Digg walk off the team, just let him go like he was irrelevant! And you and I? We left an innocent man dead on the street. Like, literally dead on the ground. We're accessories to murder. You think that you can't sleep at night? Well neither can I." Felicity's cellphone rang, making her jump a little, but she ignored it.

Oliver glared at the phone and then back at her. "You're being a hypocrite."

Felicity's mouth fell open. "What?"

"If Digg had done it, you wouldn't be having this issue."

"But Diggle wouldn't have done it. Not ever. He wouldn't just kill some random person and then walk away."

"He wasn't random, Felicity. He was a threat. That guy had been following both you and Thea!"

Felicity's cell chimed, alerting her that a text had come in. She glanced towards it but couldn't make out the screen. "Being a pain in the ass isn't the same as being a bad guy." She took a step towards her phone, but Oliver caught her by the arm.

"He would have exposed me."

"So he deserved to die?" When Oliver remained silent her blood ran cold. "You should go."

Oliver released her arm. "I'm not saying that. But what were we supposed to do? Turn her in?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

He shook his head. "I can't do that. I won't do that."

"Then we have nothing to discuss, which is good because talking to you right now totally undermines the fact that I quit the team tonight."

"What?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't look so surprised. I told you what would happen if you went to kill Slade."

His mouth opened and then closed as he processed what she was saying. "No. No you said you'd quit if I killed Slade." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't kill him."

"It doesn't count if someone else's attempt interrupted your own."

"It does count. You are not off the team."

"You're not my boss Oliver. I mean, you are my boss, but that's in name only. You don't control me."

Oliver took another step towards her. "I'm sorry about the photographer. I will always regret what happened that night. But Sara's not responsible for what's happening to her, the Mirakuru is. She needs your help. And so do I." He grabbed her hand and placed it against his chest.

The feel of his heart beating wildly beneath her fingers almost undid her. "Oliver, I promised myself when I started doing this that I wouldn't let this change me for the worse. And that's what's happening right now. I don't like who I've been the past few weeks. I don't like who you've been either."

"Please, Felicity. If you go now-"

"If I go now, what? You'll make more bad decisions? I 'm not responsible for keeping you on the straight and narrow, Oliver. I told you last night that wasn't what I signed on for. Mirakuru or not, that is something you need to do for yourself."

"I'm not asking you to save me, but you don't have to go just to teach me a lesson." He reached out and cupped her face. "I can't lose you."

"Oliver, I know you think you have feelings for me-"

"I don't think it. I know it. I love you."

It was everything she'd wanted to hear a year ago. Words she'd dreamed of, but she didn't want to hear them now. "That's the Mirakuru talking, Oliver. You said so yourself. You were ignoring any feelings you had for me just fine before. You had no intention of pursuing this. We wouldn't be having this conversation if you hadn't been injected."

"That's not fair."

"Maybe not. But you were the one who made the rules, so you can't be mad at me for sticking to them. You told me not to have feelings for you."

"I know, but-"

Felicity's phone began ringing again, which couldn't be a good thing. It wasn't even seven. She took a step towards it.

"Leave it," Oliver ordered.

She nodded, her eyes squinting as she tried to make out the caller ID. "It's early and they've called twice," she said staring at the phone. "It might be my mother." She ignored his thunderous expression and crossed over. She picked the phone up as she read the display. "It's Lance."

"He can leave a message."

She turned her back to him and clicked the accept button. "Good morning, Officer Lance." There was a loud thud against her wall and she spun on her heel to find Oliver standing with his hand through the drywall. She pulled the phone away from her ear. "Are you fracking kidding me?"

Oliver pulled his hand out, his face red with anger. "Hang up the phone."

She shook her head at him slowly, totally outraged, as she put the phone back up to her ear. "Sorry, Officer Lance. What were you saying?"

All of a sudden there was a loud pounding coming from downstairs at her door. She furrowed her brow.

"Yes, I'm home. Are you the one knocking?" she asked, brushing past Oliver and heading down the stairs. She took a few steps into her living room, making her way towards the front door. Oliver followed behind her, pulling on his shirt and straightening his clothes as he went.

"What?" she said, freezing mid stride. Oliver ran into her, reaching out a hand to steady her as she continued listening to Lance. She looked back at him, all the blood draining from her face. "Thank you for calling," she said, her voice hesitant as she hung up. Her eyes scanned the room as she processed Lance's words.

Oliver stared at her, his eyes still dark with anger. "What's going on?"

A voice boomed from the other side of the door. "SCPD, open the door!"

Oliver froze, his mouth falling open and she squared her shoulders. "Stay calm. They're not here for you." She had to think. She never brought her vigilante work home with her, but that wasn't the case with the package she'd brought back from the Foundry the night before. She darted to her kitchen, her hand landing on the box. She didn't have time to dump it.

Oliver was right behind her. "Felicity, what did Lance say?"

She spun around to face him. "I know that we're fighting right now, but I need you to do two things for me. First," she said, tapping the box, "This is literally a box of highly illegal drugs. I'll explain why I have it later, but right now, I just need you to ninja your way out of here with it without anyone seeing. Can you do that?" Oliver nodded, picking up the box as the banging outside her door grew louder. "Great," she said, slightly relieved.

Felicity pushed him over to a window along the back of the townhouse and peeked outside, thanking her lucky stars that her home hadn't been surrounded. She slid the pane of glass up and shot him a look. "Let's add easier escape options to the list of reasons moving out of an apartment building was a good thing," she muttered, remembering how unhappy Oliver had been that she had left her so called secure doorman building.

The pounding on the door grew more emphatic and she turned, watching as it vibrated in the frame. "Open up, Ms. Smoak!"

"Coming officer," she called out, taking a step towards the door.

"Felicity," Oliver whispered urgently. "What's the second thing?

"Oh, right- do me a favor," she said, tossing her cell back to him. "Call me one of your fancy lawyers."

"Why?" he asked, pocketing the phone as he started to climb out the window.

The pounding on the door resumed, making her jump. She'd only been in her new place for two weeks, but she had a strong feeling she was going to be moving again soon. Her neighbors weren't likely to warm up to her after this.

"They're arresting me for the murder of Sebastian Blood."