A/N: Expanded Oliver POV continuing from "Blind Spot" (2.11). This is where slightly AU ff gets tricky because other than the fact that they're together-together (and the events that occur in previous chapters of this fic), everything else is going to be pretty much how it plays out in canon-land. Complicated, I know. Yet here we are. My thanks to DuchessEmma for a lovely chat about lips and kisses. I hope you enjoy.

One-Eyed King

"Felicity!" I yell as I race across the rooftops, leaping from one to the next. "Felicity!"

There's no answer in my earpiece, only the sound of my own heaving breath and the thudding of my heart. But still I run, blind without her to guide me, knowing I have to hurry or it will be too late. It'll be all my fault.

"Talk to me!" I plead, but still she doesn't answer. "Felicity!"

I realize too late I won't be able to make the jump to the next roof. I skid to a halting stop, my toes struggling to find traction on the slippery surface. I'm half over the edge, frantically windmilling my arms because there's nothing to stop me from plummeting twelve stories to the pavement.

I fight against my forward momentum and propel myself back, landing awkwardly and painfully on my side on the roof. The back of my hand is bleeding when I crawl towards the edge of the roof and try to find my bearings.

Where am I?

The glittering lights of the distant downtown suddenly aren't Starling City. Like a fading mirage, I watch as they warp and morph and shimmer, revealing themselves to be far-away stars in the cold night sky.

"Felicity?"

I reach for my earpiece with my injured hand, only I don't have an earpiece anymore. I'm not wearing my green leather and mask, and I'm not on a rooftop in Starling City. I'm cold and shivering and hiding from Slade in a tall tree on Lian Yu, desperately clutching Shado's bow and my last arrow.

"Felicity," I beg, not able to keep the panic from my voice.

She has to be real. I couldn't have made her up. I left this place. I am not here. She is waiting for me, and I have to protect her. She's counting on me.

She loves me.

"Felicity," I say again. "Please, Felicity. I don't want to kill him. I just want to come home."

"You'll never go home, kid."

Slade's gruff voice comes from nowhere and everywhere. My savior, my teacher, my friend. The man who became my enemy. His voice, filled as always with rough affection and mild contempt, sends shivers of panic down my spine because if he finds her, he will hurt her. He will hurt her because he knows that's the only way he can hurt me. And that's all he wants: for me to suffer.

"You can't touch her!" I shout into the trees.

"What makes you think you can?" he asks. "You don't deserve her, and you can't stop me. But I won't have to hurt her: she'll come to me freely. She'll see that you truly are nothing."

I wake with a start, covered in sweat and fighting with the twisted sheets. Slade's voice still ringing in my ears, I blindly reach for Felicity, only to discover her side of the bed is empty. Frantic, I'm on my feet and running through the small apartment.

This can't be happening.

She has to be okay.

Jesus. God. Felicity.

"Oliver?" she says.

I throw myself across the living room. She's curled on the sofa, her legs tucked underneath her. She's wearing one of my button-down shirts, sitting alone in the dark. I ghost my fingers over her hair and her face and her hands and her arms.

"Oliver?" she says again. She sets aside her tablet, and I allow her to settle my head into her lap. Her fingers are soft and gentle as she strokes my hair. "What happened?"

"I woke up, and you were gone."

Saying it out loud like that sounds ridiculous, but she doesn't laugh or mock me. She rubs soothing circles on my back before pulling the afghan, her favorite soft blue one I love so much, over my bare shoulders.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I just couldn't sleep, and I didn't want my tossing and turning to keep you up, so I came out here." She continues her gentle ministrations, her fingers tracing my ear, the line of my jaw, the outline of my lips. "You're shaking."

I don't answer, just nuzzle my head against her silken thigh and breathe in the smell of her skin. I don't realize I've dug my fingers into her until I feel her hands on mine. She lightly taps my hands, and I immediately loosen my grip, afraid I've already left bruises.

"What happened?" she quietly asks again.

Here, surrounded by her warmth, my dream feels childish. I left the island. Slade is dead. He can't hurt her or anyone else. It was just a dream.

A terrible dream.

She doesn't press when I don't reply, simply continues touching me, as if she understands how much I need that right now. Without her anchoring me, I would be lost, adrift in my memories and drowning in my fears. Without her, Slade would be right: I'd be trapped on that island forever, unable to truly come home.

"I've been thinking about the Lances," she quietly admits. She waits to see if I'll react, and when I don't, she continues. "Poor Detective Lance. I can't imagine what he must be going through. He's a good guy. He really is. And this must just be killing him, to see his own failings in the daughter he loves so much. He must hate himself right now."

"I hadn't thought about that," I whisper to her thigh.

"He let you drive her home," she reminds me. She traces my lips with a single finger. "That didn't strike you as the act of a desperate man?"

"He and I have been getting along better."

For the first time, Felicity laughs, but it's quiet. More bemused than anything, and maybe just a little bit sad.

"Oh Oliver. It's easy to forget sometimes how clueless you are." She affectionately pats my cheek before scraping her fingers against my scruff. "Detective Lance and the Arrow have been getting along."

"Oh."

She pulls me into an awkward embrace and leans down to whisper in my ear, her loose hair tickling my face.

"Don't take it personally," she says. The tip of her tongue lightly dips into my ear. "Detective Lance and Oliver Queen don't have a lot of reasons to chat, you know? He spends considerably more time with the Arrow. And yes, he trusts and respects and depends on you. I'd go so far as to say he likes you, even."

"You think?" I ask in a small voice.

I can feel the movement when she nods. "Absolutely. And I'm not in the business of telling you what you want to hear on command. You have other sycophants for that. So you know I'm telling you the truth." Once again, she traces the outline of my jaw. "How does she not see it?" she whispers.

"She who?"

"Laurel. How does she not recognize you?"

"I wear a mask and a hood for a reason, Felicity."

"Yes, but who else in Starling City has a jaw like this? Or lips like these?" She traces my lips. "How did she not spend those five years remembering what it's like to kiss you?"

I sigh and roll over so I'm looking up at her. Her hair spills around her shoulders and reflects the light coming in from the street. I raise my hand and cup her cheek, smiling when she closes her eyes and leans into my touch.

"She spent those five years really mad at me for cheating on her and killing Sarah," I say with a sigh. She was kissing Tommy, too. For all I know, Laurel didn't miss me at all. "And I didn't kiss her the way I kiss you." She opens her eyes, and I hope, even in the dark, she can see that I'm telling the truth. "I was different when I was with her. I wasn't." My voice trails off because I don't know how to explain it exactly. "I wasn't the person I am now. I didn't cherish her the way I do you."

"So you didn't kiss her like you needed to feel her lips against yours more than you needed to breathe?"

I smile and shake my head. "Nope. Those are only your kisses." I sit up and pull a squealing Felicity onto my lap, wrapping the afghan around us both.

"Now I really feel sorry for her," she says after we both get comfortable. "She doesn't even know what she's missing," Felicity whispers. "She has no idea how alone she is or what she's lost." I open my mouth to respond, but Felicity presses her fingers against my lips and shakes her head. "You know what? Let's not talk about Laurel anymore."

"Works for me," I agree, feeling relieved.

The truth is, I can't change my past, but I wish sometimes that I could. Not just the island and everything I went through to get home, but also how selfish I used to be. How intent I was on my own immediate gratification and pleasure. I've kissed too many people I don't care about. I kissed them poorly, and without consideration.

I should have saved all my kisses for Felicity.

"Are you going to tell me?" she asks now that we're face to face.

I shake my head, but even as I do, I hear myself whisper, as if I can't deny her anything, even the things I don't want her to see or know, "I was on the island."

She nods.

"First I was here, on a mission. Only you weren't there. I was running blind without your voice in my ear, and I almost fell. But then I was back on the island."

"I'll always be here," she promises. "But that's not what had you running in here like the bed was on fire."

"He always called me kid," I quietly say. I close my eyes and lean my head back. "It was condescending at first, because he was so badass and I was." I shake my head at the boy I used to be, the boy Slade used to get so frustrated with and nearly killed because he was so inept at absolutely everything. "Well, I was me."

"But then you grew up," Felicity adds.

I nod. "Yeah. Only he still called me kid. But over time, it was." I sigh. "It was the same word, and he said it the same way. He had a great voice, really. But it was different."

"Because you weren't a kid anymore," she says.

I pull her into my chest and settle her head under my chin because Felicity is awake in the middle of the night talking to a lunatic because I haven't even told her Slade's name. I probably never will.

"He recognized how much you'd changed," she continues, her breath warm and comforting on my neck. "And he still called you kid to remind you how far you'd come. It became a sign of his respect."

I nod, and Felicity nods back, understanding that I'm not going to say anymore. She knows when to stop, and she knows better than to ask what happened to him, or why someone I cared about left me running into her arms. I have no doubt that eventually Felicity will know all my secrets, but she seems content to wait until I decide to tell her.

"What were you working on?" I ask as I run my hands under her shirt.

"The security guard," she says.

"From the archive?" She nods. "What are you looking for?"

"Breadcrumbs."

"Maybe there isn't a trail to follow. Maybe he just got lucky."

Felicity shrugs. "Maybe. But in my experience, there's no such thing as that much luck." She leans back and looks at me, her gaze intent and serious. "We are running blind, Oliver, and I don't like it."

"Nah," I soothe, pulling her back into my arms. I trail teasing kisses along her neck.

"I'm serious," she protests, squirming against my lips.

"Let's be serious in the morning," I suggest. "I think we should distract ourselves from all the seriousness as often as possible."

I kiss her, my tongue gently asking her lips to welcome me home. She sighs with contentment and tugs on my hair.

"Now you're just playing dirty," she accuses. "You're appealing to my baser nature."

"Well, I'm not opposed to cheating when it suits my purposes. And I happen to love your baser nature. Besides, you know what they say about the world of blind men?"

She reaches between us and strokes me before giving me a firm squeeze. While I gasp for breath, she says, "The one-eyed man is king?" She kisses me before laughing. "Gross, Oliver."

Before I can stop it, Felicity laughing on my lap is replaced with an image of Slade, my last arrow sunk deep into his eye. The other is open, gazing at nothing because he'd never look at anything, not ever again. I left him a one-eyed king of nothing.

I cling tightly to Felicity and bury my face in her face.

"Hey," she says. "Where'd you go? Come home to me."

I kiss her instead of answering, both eyes wide open so all I can see is her.