Oliver ran his fingers along the arrows spine, before drawing it back into the string of his bow- tickling its feathers. The gesture was effortless, and as he released- the motion of the arrow projecting forward- he felt that familiar vibration travel up his arm from the whiplash.

He'd found the equipment in storage, when he was packing away his things from Tommy's apartment. He almost left the instrument- allowing it to collect more dust- but a nostalgic feeling fell upon him, so he instinctively picked up the bow. He noticed how good it felt in his hand.

Oliver had called Felicity an hour before, asking her to meet him here. At first, he didn't know what he was going to say to her. He knew that he should be angry, or at least frustrated that she had kept this secret from him. But an even greater part of him wanted to push aside the hostility and betrayal- one can't fight fire with fire. Then he'd picked up the bow and arrow, marched out to the archery range and started shooting.

Oliver got a bullseye on his first try.

He stood there for a moment- the sun drifting low over the mountains of buildings in the distance- and stared. He then picked up another arrow and aimed it at the target, once again surprised at how easy the motion was.

At that moment, he knew what he was going to say to Felicity, because being around her was like this- shooting an arrow- effortless, calming, and right.

He was amazed- after a few shots- at how his memory was able to conjure up images of him as a kid, in this backyard, aiming at this same target. It was almost as if, the action of him shooting, was slowly restoring pieces of his memory.

Actions can be triggers.

This was something the doctors had told him earlier in his recovery. He should do things he used to, in the hopes that it would bring back a certain sensation or thought attached to that action. It was like hearing a song and immediately being able to trace it back to a certain person, place or memory- along with the feeling of that moment.

So when she had finally come- the image of her walking toward him feeling familiar- he told her how he felt about her, because it was the only thing he was really sure of at that moment.

He watched her face in the fading light, the way her lips rolled and eyes darted around like she didn't want to reveal what was going on in her head. Then she said without question: You know… about us.

The way she said it made her sound defeated, like he had spun her around and told her to leave. He had tried to explain about Cooper and Wesley, hoping that she would calm down, but her eyes were still wide and guarded, like at any moment he might lash out.

Oliver had tried to make Felicity understand that he wasn't angry at her- he only wanted to make sense of this mess. But he could see the internal struggle she was having. She wasn't really listening to him.

So he kissed her. Actions spoke louder than words. Actions could be triggers.

The moment his lips touched hers- his hands cupping her face in a fiery embrace- he felt that trigger hit him hard. He'd had this feeling before- a long time ago- back when he thought love was only a fantasy.

The feeling came before the images did, but slowly they trickled in, eventually intertwining together to form a scene. It was like watching a movie- a boy and girl sitting together against a wooden wall, somewhere below the Gambit, a bottle of alcohol wedged between them. They were in the middle of a brutal storm that was thrashing them this way and that, the boat moaning and groaning against the angry waves outside.

"I hate this," Felicity said, hugging herself. She was sitting to Oliver's right, the silhouette of her face prominent against the moonlight outside. The lighting had gone out, leaving the two of them in the dark, the moon being the only illumination. They could hear crewmembers above, trying to get everything under control- the two of them forced under the cabin for safety reasons. Luckily Oliver had discovered a stash of vodka in one of his father's cabinets, an easy distraction from the mess going on up above.

"Take another swig," Oliver said, offering her the bottle. "It'll help loosen your nerves."

But she shook her head, swallowing before glancing out the stained glass window. He noticed the slight shake in Felicity's hands - her discomfort making his body tense up.

"Hey," Oliver said, resting a hand on her arm. He squeezed, prompting her to turn and look at him. "It's going to be ok."

Felicity didn't look convinced, but still nodded.

She looked away from him then, but he still kept his hand steady on her arm. Felicity had never been the best swimmer, her mother rarely having time to cook dinner, never mind drive her to swim lessons. When she was faced with a problem that she didn't have the skills necessary to handle, she panicked.

"Thanks for coming with me," Oliver said, suddenly feeling bad about begging her to tag along with him and his father on the Gambit, despite her fear of water. "Even if you didn't want to."

"Don't be ridiculous," Felicity said, her eyes closed as she leaned her head back, rocking with the boat. "You're my best friend. Spontaneous and potentially dangerous boat trips are in the job description."

Oliver would have laughed, but there was heaviness in his chest. "I just didn't want to be alone with him," he said, the alcohol making his head buzz with confessions. He felt Felicity reach up and gasp his hand, which was still resting on her arm. She pulled it down and held it in her own. The warmth of her touch was comforting and he felt a burn blossoming in his chest, which seemed to only happen when he was around her.

"You're not alone," she said, somewhat serious. She capped the bottle and moved it to her right so she could scoot closer to him. "If I die tonight- I'm totally haunting your ass."

Oliver cracked a small smile. "If you go, I go," he said, lifting an arm and wrapped it around her shoulder, drawing her near.

Oliver felt Felicity shift her weight, moving so that she could see his face. "If we do die tonight-"

"Felicity-"

"No just listen." She said, then starting over. "If we die tonight- I wanna know- if you could go back and change one thing about your past, what would it be?"

Oliver let out a breath, like the question weighed a ton. "Little deep for sailor talk, don't you think?"

Felicity hiked an eyebrow. "I need a distraction," she said, giving him a serious look. "So humor me."

Oliver chewed on the inside of his mouth. Felicity was infamous for asking daring questions, but they mostly had to do with what girl he was onto next or, on rare occasions, what he thought her father was like. And every time he would tell her he was a lowly and shitty person that didn't deserve her attention. This question was different though, and it made him uncomfortable, not because it was her asking but because he knew she wouldn't approve of his answer.

"Nothing," he said, finally.

"Nothing?"

She didn't look satisfied by this and turned her head away from him so he couldn't see her disappointment. He had been feeling things for her lately- despite them growing up together- he felt like he was seeing her in a new light. Especially when they were touching, like this, and it usually scared him. But now, an even scarier thought popped into his mind- what if this was the end? And all they had were these last few moments?

"Felicity," Oliver said, and she looked back up at him, her porcelain skin like silk in the moonlight. "I wouldn't change anything about my past because everything that has happened, led me here, to this moment."

Felicity blinked, her mouth partially open as she replayed his words. "The moment where we all die?"

Oliver's lips twitched upwards. "No," he said, sucking in a nervous breath. "To this."

His lips found hers, as they were perfectly tilted up in his direction. It was a sweet kiss, innocent enough, but he could still feel the shock, as Felicity eventually broke away- opening her eyes to look up at him.

"Oliver-" she began, in a whisper, but then there was a loud and earth shattering crack that threw the boat sideways. Felicity screamed as they tumbled to the left. Oliver grabbed hold of her wrist, trying to steady her as cries erupted from the deck.

After another howl, which could have either been a person or the wind, Oliver knew he couldn't stay down here. "I have to go up," Oliver said to Felicity, pushing himself off the rug.

Felicity looked like she was about to say something, but then his name came from above. "Oliver!" It was his father- he knew immediately. Then everything shifted again.

.

.

.

"You can't just- I have to go," Felicity said now, her back to him. Oliver stood there in a daze, feeling the memory weigh heavily on his brain. She was walking away from him, her fingers pressed to her mouth as she moved toward the house.

She had been on the Gambit with him the night his father died- where he had kissed her. He couldn't believe he remembered. He began to connect the pieces- the dream he once had where his father was hanging off the railing- him standing on the side, watching, the wind screaming loud in his ears. He had questions. He couldn't let her leave.

Oliver forced himself forward, after Felicity. She was quick though, practically jogging up the house steps before walking through the backdoor.

"Felicity, stop," Oliver said, a few steps behind her before he could finally reach out to grab her arm- gently turning her to face him. The house creaked under their weight as he stopped her in the kitchen. She seemed shocked that he had followed her, breathless as he placed both of his hands on her shoulders. "I remember that night on the Gambit."

Her eyes lit up at his words, like a lighthouse on a foggy night. "Wha- How?"

Oliver paused, licking his lips. "When I kissed you…"

Felicity cast her eyes away as she bit her lip, holding something in.

"That night the Gambit went down, when I kissed you and then we hit a big wave and I went to go help my father…" It felt strange saying his thoughts out loud. "But I didn't help him, did I? I let him die."

"Oliver…" Felicity looked sorrowful now, the anger in her eyes dissipating so quickly, it was like it hadn't been there at all.

"Why did I let him die?" Oliver asked, releasing her shoulders as he stepped back. "I remember hesitating when he called out for me, and then he was gone."

Felicity was studying him, her eyes raking over his face as she reached out for him. His hands were deep in his pockets as she slid her own through the hoop of his arm.

"Come on," she said, tenderly. "I have to show you something."

She then pulled him toward the front door, and he let her.

"Where are we?" Oliver asked, just as Felicity rolled up next to a small house, the inside dark and seemingly empty.

Felicity put the car in park and took the keys from the ignition as she stared out her window. "This was where I grew up," she said, her voice weary as she glanced at him. "You used to come by all the time."

Oliver looked from Felicity to the house- the small windows and chipped paint- a place he had, apparently, been often. Felicity then opened up her car door and stepped out into the warm night. Oliver followed after her, pausing just after he closed the passenger side door.

"Is anyone home?"

"No," she said, locking the car before starting up the narrow pathway. "My mom's in Vegas right now and my dad's-"

"Not in the picture," Oliver finished, his voice soft. It was too dark to see her expression but it didn't matter because she turned away from him- hiding her reaction. He wanted to show her that he wasn't just pretending, he really did remember that night and he had been listening.

He followed after her, watching her kneel down- once they reached the rickety porch- to retrieve a key from under the mailbox. Felicity's hair fell over her face as she stood- blowing away the loose strands, she stuck the key in the lock, turning twice.

"God," Felicity said, her voice lighter, as she stepped inside and switched on a few lights. "If my mother saw you standing here right now, I think she'd have a heart attack."

Oliver hiked an eyebrow as he took in the cute farm themed curtains that hung over the kitchen sink. "Yeah?"

Felicity nodded as she moved through the dining room, throwing her purse on the kitchen counter. He wanted to ask why, but he was being choosy with his questions. Oliver trailed behind her- curious about what she wanted to show him- when she stopped suddenly and turned to him.

"I just want- I need- to say…" she trailed off, licking her lips as she stared at the ground. Clearly this was harder for her than him. "That I wouldn't make any of this up. What I'm about to show you- it's all true. Even though I haven't given you a reason to trust me, I promise..."

Oliver waited patiently, but she didn't continue; yet he still found himself nodding- he knew.

"Felicity, whatever it is…" he said, gently placing a hand on her arm. "I'll believe you."

She didn't look convinced but nodded anyway, sniffling before turning and continuing down the short hallway. They turned into the first room, and upon her flicking on the light, an awkward color combination of reds and purples bounced back at them. It looked like a teenage girls room, although with a little more funk and retro.

Oliver touched a bright pair of bright, neon green leggings that hung from the top of her dresser. "Could you be anymore 80's?" He asked, with a chuckle.

"Hey," Felicity said, snapping her fingers, a smile teasing her lips. "The 80's are totally underrated. And besides, those were my 80's themed party leggings."

"Who throws 80's themed parties anymore?" Oliver asked, tugging playfully at the material.

"Um," Felicity said, whipping around just as she let out a laugh. "You did."

Oliver looked at her, mortified.

"What?" She said, letting out another laugh, then, jokingly: "You don't remember?"

Oliver clutched his chest, like he had physically felt her blow. "Too soon."

Felicity let out another laugh as she lowered herself to the floor, her hands disappearing under the bed as she rummaged around for something.

"Need help?" Oliver asked, moving down to her level. But just as he asked, she pulled out a large box, sliding it along the carpet.

Felicity suddenly became serious again, her smile faltering as she looked down at the plain brown package that sat in front of her, water stained and scribbled on.

"What's this?" Oliver asked, when she didn't make a move to open it.

Felicity brought up a hand to adjust her glasses, then sniffled. "When we stopped speaking- after that night on the Gambit- I didn't realize how much I missed talking to you. So I just started writing these letters- at first I thought I was just writing in a journal- but then I realized they were all to you. Things I wanted to tell you that day, memories, or just how much I missed you."

Felicity swallowed, her eyes moving up to Oliver's.

"They explain everything leading up to that night and after it," she said, shrugging. "It's been so long, I don't want to mess anything up. But this girl-" she gestured to the box and her room. "- she remembers every detail- better than I ever could."

Oliver watched Felicity open the box, mounds of letter's piled on top of each other, each filled from top to bottom in her loopy scrawl.

"I'm going to go make tea," she said, forcing a small smile. "Let me know if you have any questions- but before you ask- finish them all…ok?"

Oliver held her gaze, unsure of what to say as he picked up the top letter, the smooth parchment paper thick under his grip.

"You sure you want me to read all these?" He finally asked, as she moved to get up.

Felicity paused, before shrugging. "They're things I would have told you anyways," she said, leaning toward the door. "Only now I finally can."

Oliver considered this before nodding, scanning the first letter as she turned to leave- cracking the door slightly- so she could hear him turning the pages.

Author's Note: I almost decided to include the letter's in this chapter, but then decided to write them into their own section because they are the climatic moment of this story and- I feel- deserve their own chapter. Pretty much everything will be explained next post, so if you're literally dying right now and want to know what the eff is going on- it will all make sense soon, stay tuned!

And again, thanks for all of you who are still reading. I love hearing your thoughts, they give me fuel to write- as you can see, your feedback encouraged me to update only a couple days after my last post. You're all fabulous and generous creatures. Thanks for the support!