Hey guys! I realize it's been sooooooo long since I've updated this story and I'm really sorry for that! But I haven't given up on this story yet and if you're still interested in it, I'll try to update as often as I can :) Anyway, I hope you like what you read :)

Alas, I still do not own Arrow.

Not one word passed Felicity's lips the whole way back to the lair. He could feel her staring at him, feel the questions, feel the burning anger, feel the confusion and the disbelief sure, but God he wished she'd just say something. Even if it was just a scream. Just something that gave the tiniest bit of insight into what was going on in that mind of hers.

A silent Felicity was not something he was used to and generally it meant bad things. Silence meant she was lost in her own thoughts; pondering, connecting the dots, placing all the pieces together into one form-fitting jigsaw.

And possibly coming up with multiple ways to yell at him.

Because that was what he expected. And, truthfully, believed he deserved. Screaming and crying and stomping and storming and flailing arms. A torrent of emotion.

Even when he guided her down the steps below Verdant, her frame still shaky from her encounter, barely any acknowledgement sounded from her. Her blue eyes scanned the area, taking in every detail, her stare lingering on the computer system for several very long beats and by the way they seemed to squint almost accusatory, Oliver knew that she did not approve of the IT part of his crusade. No doubt she was taking stock of that particular piece of information too. Great.

Diggle was there to meet them, looking like hell, but looking stronger too, somehow. It would only be a matter of hours before the Applied Sciences division would finish formulating a non-addictive treatment from the Vertigo-tainted vaccine he managed to deliver anonymously before they made it back to the lair. And good thing too because no matter how tough his friend was both physically and mentally, Oliver knew he was in intense pain.

John examined the two of them, questions practically radiating from his gaze, but he remained silent.

Felicity moved away from Oliver the second she could, planting herself in front of the computer, her back facing the two men. Even though she was only a few feet away from him, he felt her trying to place more distance between them.

It was as if she was thousands of miles away and there was nothing he could do to bridge the gap.

"Is she okay?" Diggle whispered to him.

Shaking his head, the adrenaline beginning to leave his body, he fixed his eyes on her again. "I don't know. It was…it was a close one tonight."

The other man nodded in understanding. "You were shot," he commented.

"It's just a graze."

"Still, you should clean it up. Maybe get out of your suit," he offered, signalling to the blonde.

His suit? He forgot he was wearing it.

"Right," he acknowledged. "You should go home, get some rest. I'll drop by with the formula as soon as I get it."

"You sure?"

Oliver couldn't keep his eyes off Felicity. "I'm sure."

"Alright, man. You go ahead and sort yourself out. I'll make sure she gets a drink."

He smiled in gratitude. "Thanks, Digg."

Luckily the graze wasn't as bad as he had initially thought and it didn't take long to clean the wound and bandage it up, but he couldn't bring himself to go out and face her just yet.

What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to explain everything?

Lying to Felicity wasn't something he did often and though he knew the reasons behind why he didn't let her in to this part of his world, he assumed she wouldn't see it that way. This was a huge secret to just come unravelling out in front of him. But he didn't have a choice – The Count would have killed her. He was never going to let that happen. Protecting Oliver Queen, protecting his alter-ego wasn't top priority. Felicity was. And, when he really thought about it, when wasn't she?

He looked at himself hard in the mirror. He looked tired. Weathered. Worn.

He couldn't have been more removed from the Oliver she knew all those years ago.

Realistically he knew that happened as time went by: people got older and they changed. It was a law of nature.

But can they really change that much? Shouldn't there still be something, some remnant of their past self still there?

Bowing his head, Oliver willed himself to back away from the mirror.

His muscles were stiff from the events of the night and he found himself trudging out to meet her, his body almost refusing to go through with this.

The blonde had turned around now, her back to the screens, seemingly waiting for him. They stayed quiet a little longer, a distant whirr from the generator the only sound to fill the void.

"Where'd…?" He pointed to the grey blanket now draped around her like a safety net.

Finally she met his blues. Finally he could see the hurricane swirling so clearly, so boldly in hers. He swallowed hard, the ache in his chest impossible to ignore. Anger he could deal with; but what he saw, the hurt so evidently painted on her face for only him to see? That was so much harder.

"Digg gave it to me before he went home," she explained lowly.

"Oh okay. Good."

More staring. Or maybe it was more glaring.

"So…you're The Hood."

He squared his shoulders. "Yes."

"You zipline through the city at night wearing a green hood and arrowing bad guys like some kind of one-man crime solution."

"I-"

"Oliver I know I should be thankful for you saving my life and believe me I am – I mean I really am – but there's just a lot of things going through my mind right now and I just-"

"I understand."

She laughed once but without humour. It was dark and pained. "No, you don't. You think you do but you don't. Did I have my suspicions? Yeah maybe I did because mysteries bug me and you're always popping in and out with weird requests and dashing around like some kind of skilled assassin but never in my wildest dreams did I ever think you capable of this. Not my Oliver. Not the Oliver I knew."

"That's because I'm not the Oliver you knew!"

Felicity pulled up at his outburst, cheeks flushed. Tears filled her eyes and the lump in his throat intensified.

The words rushed out of him before he could stop himself. An explosion of truth. Hadn't he been saying that from the start? Hadn't he tried to explain that he was different, that a darkness had settled over him long ago and any hope of escaping its clutches had vanished the second he decided that his life would be better lived alone and under the shadow of a hood?

No longer was he Oliver Queen. He was damaged. Broken. Someone else; something else.

"Can't you see that, Felicity?" he whispered. "I was gone. I…" he set his jaw, desperately trying to keep his emotion in check, "I spent five years in hell. Five years where nothing good happened! I came across things that just…defied explanation. I experienced every kind of pain you can imagine. Those things change a person." He sniffed, angered at how badly he was holding it together. One glance at her told him that she wasn't doing a good job of it either. "Sometimes I can't breathe when I think about it. Sometimes I can't even eat. I can't sleep. It's like - like I don't even know how to function normally. I go about my day and I wear a smile and I lean on these little instincts I still have somehow just to get me through but every part of me knows that I belong here anymore. I don't belong in this world anymore, Felicity; I'm not…I'm not me."

His words punched the air and died. Both of them stood, staring but not really looking at one another. There was too much space between them but neither one moved.

It took her a few more seconds to respond, her fingers gripped into the blanket as though it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Oliver…then why do this? Why be The Arrow?"

"The Arrow?" he posed dubiously.

"It's a much better name," she stated, matter-of-factly. "More heroic. 'The Hood' is too menacing."

"I'm not a hero," he insisted strongly, visibly annoyed.

She was the first to take a step forward. "What do you call what you do then? Stopping bad guys and helping innocent people without wanting any recognition? Sounds like a hero to me."

The man dropped his head, hands raking through his curt hair. "Didn't you hear a word I said? Do you see these hands?" He lifted them in front of her face, palms facing her. "These hands have killed people. They have taken lives. When I was away it was kill or be killed – that was how I survived and that was how I started this whole thing. I was bloodthirsty. I had no time for people to repent – I just took the shot." His breathing turned laboured, hands shaking violently. So enthralled by his display, Felicity grabbed his hands to steady him, a gesture made to urge him to continue, to release whatever it was that was eating him up. Her hands were soft and lost within his but her thumbs ran along the lines of his palms, instantly soothing his turbulent frame. His gaze became pleading.

"I was just so consumed," he continued, gulping, "with putting an end to all the corruption and the evil and the injustice that is running rampant in this city that the body count didn't matter. Because the people that I faced never showed remorse. They never cared. And I guess that over time I stopped caring about what happened to them. And that makes me just as bad as them."

The blonde nodded in understanding, letting her own tears flow unabashedly. "But something changed. You changed. You do care because you stopped killing people. What happened?"

A heavy sigh sagged from him. "Tommy died," he choked out. "He found out about me and for a while he didn't approve of what I was doing, but before he died he told me that I had the chance to..."

"To what?"

He closed his eyes. "To be a hero."

"And you did. You became a hero. You are saving this city, Oliver Queen."

The conviction in her tone was impossible to ignore, her belief was so strong that he could almost let himself believe. Even for the fleetest of instances, he allowed himself to see himself the way she did and he wished he could bask in that assurance forever. But his demons were never quiet for long and he knew all too well that it would only be a matter of time before they whispered in his ear and everything would turn into an ambiguous haze once again. Doubt was his master, slavery to the darkness his purpose.

It was a form of self-sabotage that he had acquired over the years that never seemed to fail him.

"I don't feel like one."

Felicity's eyes softened, shining with an emotion he couldn't read, chipping away at his armour.

"I honestly can't imagine how you feel, Oliver," she said quietly with a shake of her head. "I don't think that I could ever fully comprehend what you went through the time you were away, and I know you think that you don't belong but that's wrong. You're wrong. Somebody who has faced all of those things and came out stronger and decided to use that strength to save his city…well, he definitely belongs. He hasn't lost himself; he's just trying to find himself. His soul hasn't darkened; it's burning brighter than ever before. His heart beats louder and with more purpose. He thinks he's broken, but he tries effortlessly to fix others. He's selfless. And kind. He wants to protect the defenceless. To right the wrongs. He is a hero."

A tentative hand loosened its grip on his and instead found a home over his heart. The move surprised him and he couldn't help but fixate on it as it laid there, rising and falling with his breaths.

He cleared his throat after the silence prolonged. "I thought you were mad at me," he implored.

"Oh I am mad. I mean, what you are doing is reckless and stupid and you're only one man and it's not like you're wearing a metal suit or anything – what is up with the green leather anyway? It looks good and I'm sure it's practical but it just looks so tight – not that I've noticed but you know, it's not that hard to notice and I'm going to stop talking about your outfit right now…" She clamped her lips close so that no other words could tumble out of them until she got her bearings. Then, "And you're using a bow and arrow…exactly what part of that plan sounds like a good idea?" she rambled, inviting a smirk from him. Her eyebrows suddenly knitted together. "But I'm not mad that you're The Arrow; I'm mad that life happened. I'm mad that in what is relatively a short amount of time, so much has happened. Too much has happened. We're not who we were. I know, technically, we're not supposed to be but it's just when you think about it, it's hard to think that it was us all those years ago, you know what I mean? It's kind of like having memories of other people. I just wish I had known. I wish I could have helped you."

Now she was only talking to herself but her fingers started to draw nonsensical patterns on his chest and he didn't want to break the spell.

"I wish I could change how things ended between us. You have to know that I loved you."

Her head rose slowly. "Did you?

"More than you know."

"You broke my heart."

"I know."

She smiled sadly, cracking his resolve. "Why?"

What could he say? "I had to," he breathed.

She frowned. "Oliver, I don't understand."

"You should go home, you need to sleep. It was a rough night."

He broke free from her hold to grab his own grey hoodie that lay sloppily the edge of the table.

And just like that the spell was broken.

"Oliver?"

He turned back to face her. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say thank you."

A small smile formed on his face. "Yeah, of course."

"And I'm sorry."

That caught him off-guard. He moved closer to her again. "For what?"

"I got myself into trouble and you…killed him. You killed again and I'm sorry that I was the one who put you in a position where you had to make that kind of choice."

"Felicity," he said in that tone he only reserved for her, reaching out to take one of her hands again, "he had you and he was gonna hurt you. There was no choice to make."

Throwing any caution he had to the wind, he pulled her to him and kissed her forehead, needing the physical contact to calm him again. He had almost lost her tonight and the memory of that was going to haunt his dreams for many nights to come. She relaxed under his touch, her other hand clasping at his t-shirt and he could have stayed there forever.

But Oliver was the first to break away, needing to put distance between them. There was still a lot to talk about and it wasn't the right time, and Felicity seemed to come to the same conclusion. Removing the blanket from her shoulders, she wrapped it around the chair by the computers.

Lingering there, hands gliding along the keyboard, she looked back at him. "Your system looks like it's from the 80s - and not the good part of the 80s like Madonna and, well, legwarmers. Seeing it this poorly set up hurts me in my soul. If it's okay with you I'd like to upgrade it to this century…?"

Oliver hesitated. Could he let her in on his mission? Risk putting her in danger? It was only a computer system after all; it's not like she was asking to put on a suit and go out fighting crime with him…

"You know what, never mind. We'll talk about it some other time," she rushed, looking self-conscious.

He offered her a warm smile as she gathered up her things. "Goodnight, Felicity."

Coat draped over her arm and bag over her shoulder she ambled over to him, soft lips pulled into a shy smile. "Maybe I was wrong."

"About what?"

"My Oliver would do something like this. Goodnight." She moved past him and made her way up the stairs, the clacking of her heels echoing around the cave.

Oliver felt a wave of warmth wash over him. His heart seemed to beat to the sound of a new rhythm – a rhythm he could get used to.

Felicity had been way too quiet all day. Ever since Oliver picked her up at noon she'd barely engaged in conversation with him. Even when made endless, pointless small talk (Felicity really hated small talk) she hardly responded. He couldn't help but let his mind jump to the worst possible conclusion and as the date went on, and she became less responsive and more introspective, he couldn't stand it any longer.

"You've been quiet," he remarked off-hand, trying to act casual as they dug into their burgers. In silence.

The blonde jerked her head up. "No I haven't," she retorted in defence.

Oliver smirked, raising a wry eyebrow.

"I passed comment on that weird cloud on the way here," she continued, licking her lips self-consciously. "And I, you know, mentioned the fact that I like the shirt you're wearing today…"

"You didn't mention anything about my shirt."

"I didn't? Well, it looks really good on you. Actually, everything looks really good on you so it's not all that surprising – I mean, you could wear a plastic bag and it'd still look hot." She squeezed her eyes shut. "You'd think that after all this time I'd be able to separate my inner thoughts from my outer but hey here we are."

That invited a smile from him. He could listen to her ramble all day long, even if it was a little devoid of its usual zest.

"How's your burger?" he asked just as she murmured, "I have something to tell you."

Both of them stared at one another for a few long beats as if trying to read the other one's mind.

Felicity peered at him sheepishly but Oliver remained calm and blank. Unreadable.

He could feel it coming. The words were gonna come swimming out of her mouth in a rush and once they were said, there'd be no going back, no pretending it wasn't real or ignoring it in the hope that it would just disappear. That would it be it. They'd be over.

No more Oliver and Felicity.

He could take it. It was for the best. She needed to go to London with a fresh start, a clean break, new perspective. She was going to realize her full potential. She was going to change the world. That Oliver truly believed. And there was no way he was going to stand in the way of that.

If they were meant to be like he believed they were, they would find their way back to each other. That's what people said, right? That if two people truly belonged together they'd somehow, by fate or design or God or whatever, follow their roads back to one another again?

Oliver had to believe in that. That was the only way he could stomach the fact that he couldn't jump in his car and drive to see her. Or call her when he was feeling under pressure. Or just be with her, anytime, anyplace. He wouldn't be able to hold her hand, or kiss or hug her, or watch her eyes light up when she's talking about something she loves.

A huge part of him – the selfish part - was still bitter though. Bitter that she was leaving, and essentially leaving him, and that he'd have to start from scratch all over again in a new place without her or Tommy. He'd be alone.

Oliver didn't really do well with being alone.

And even just the thought of it tugged at his heart.

Felicity drew in a deep breath. And then took a large sip of her drink. And then drank in a deep breath again.

He waited.

He hoped it would be a quick break-up; a few sentences that would really hurt, maybe a short emotional goodbye and that'd be it. Honestly he was glad she was the one initiating it. He didn't trust himself to do it were it left to him.

He just needed it to be quick.

"I got that scholarship," she said slowly as if she was testing out the words. "You know, the one that allows me to study in Europe. Well, London to be exact. But anyway…yeah…I got it."

A small smile formed on his face because despite it all he was still proud of her. She should know that.

"That's amazing, Felicity. I knew you would."

The blonde straightened then, head cocked as she examined him. Suddenly her eyes narrowed and Oliver shuffled uncomfortably at the abrupt scrutiny. Several seconds passed and then a quiet gasp tumbled from her.

"You knew," she stated.

"What?"

"You knew!"

"I-"

"You already knew I got it! How did you know?"

Scratching the back of his head, the boy pursed his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Cut the crap Oliver," she interjected. "You're a terrible liar."

"Felicity I'm not lying-"

"Oliver! Please," she pleaded, eyes closed. "How did you know?"

He sighed, surrendering. "Your mom told me."

Jaw clenched, she asked, voice hard, "When?"

"About a month ago."

If she was angry before, she was furious now. Her face now a bright shade of pink- but that also could have been because she had started crying, the fury emanated from her petite frame in waves, forcing Oliver to eek backwards ever so slightly.

"I cannot believe she told you!"

The outburst so loud, a few people in their vicinity actively focused their attention on them, seemingly rapt with what was happening in front of them.

Felicity either didn't notice or didn't care. Her emotions were fluctuating from anger to hurt and back again. Nothing else seemed to matter.

"She thought you had already told me. She assumed you would have told me as soon as you found out. And to be honest I assumed the same."

"Really? You've known about this for over a month and you didn't say anything and now you're trying to, what, turn this back on me?" she accused, hurt blazing from her every pore. "It was my news to tell. Not hers. I decide who I want to tell and when I want to tell. Did you ever stop to think that I hadn't made my mind up? That I was figuring out what I really wanted? I was going to tell you when I was ready, Oliver."

Oliver dug the heel of his hand into his forehead in frustration. Yeah maybe he should have told her but he couldn't shake the fact that she had some news – pretty major news – and didn't tell him. If she didn't tell him something like this, who knew what else she'd keep from him. The idea that she didn't trust him, or worse, that he couldn't trust her kept running around circles in his mind and he was just tired with the whole debate.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, taking the tone of the conversation, or perhaps it was more of an argument, down. "I am, I'm just…I thought I would be the first to know. Well after your mom anyway. And when you didn't tell me and weeks went by…" he paused, giving her sad smile, "…I just didn't know where we stood."

The blonde dropped her shoulders, all her chagrin dissipating with that one move.

"I'm sorry, too. I just had a lot of thinking to do."

"It's a big change but it's gonna be amazing, Felicity. It is." He forcibly broadened his smile, trying so hard to be enthused. "You're gonna experience actual British things – and not just the stuff that we see on TV that we think are British – but like, real, authentic British things. You'll be surrounded by people who have the strangest accents and oh, you'll get to eat fish and chips! And walk on cobblestones! Even though you can probably do that here somewhere but you know, they'll be British cobblestones and-"

"Oliver I'm not going."

His faux-enthusiasm deflated leaving only perplexity in its wake. "Wait…what? Of course you're going."

"No, I'm not."

"I don't understand; how can you not be going? This is an incredible opportunity and you wanted to do it - you filled in the application, you wrote the essay, you got esteemed references. All that was left to do was to get accepted and you did, Felicity. You got accepted. They want you."

"I know Oliver but I'm not sure that I want that anymore." She began toying with the wrapper from her burger. "When I got the letter it became real, you know? This isn't just moving across country; this is moving across the world. By myself. I mean, I know that I have a pretty good sense of direction and I always have access to Google Maps so it's not like I'll need to buy one of those ridiculously huge and over-priced topical maps or anything but it's a new place and I could still get lost and I won't know anybody – did I mention that? Like, I'll be totally alone. Short blonde girl with glasses who looks younger than her eighteen years alone in a different country –doesn't that just sound like the plotline to a terrible horror movie? I will not be a plotline to a terrible horror movie, Oliver."

"Felicity-"

"And what if I go there and my roommate is obnoxious? What if she hates me? What if I'm not able for the workload or my professors don't like me? What if I have to join a club? You know I can't play sports. What if-"

"Felicity look at me," he declared in exasperation. Though he found her ramblings adorable and endearing, he couldn't let her ramble down a rabbit hole of 'what-ifs'. The blonde slowly met his gaze. "None of that stuff matters. You know why?" She shook her head lightly. "Because this scholarship is everything you've worked for. All that extra-credit work you did in school, all those hours you put in coding – they led to this. You know how this looks on a resumè. You know that this will help you so much in your career later on. Other people who've won this scholarship have gone on to start their own businesses. They've made waves in the tech world."

"How do you know that?" she questioned.

He ducked his head. "I may have read up about it."

"Well I know all that. But…it doesn't change my mind. I'm not going."

"You need to be reasonable about this," he countered, feeling a little bewildered by this but more irritated because of how determined she seemed.

"I don't want to be reasonable. I want to be eighteen. I want to stick to the plan."

The plan. Their plan. MIT and Harvard.

Realization dawned on him.

This was about them.

She wasn't breaking up with him; she was making sure they weren't breaking up.

"Felicity…"

Oliver didn't know what to say. He could have called her out on it, told her how ridiculous she was being, maybe throw in the long-distance idea to appease her, but he couldn't get the words out. They lodged themselves firmly in his throat, refusing to see the light of day. This was his chance to pull the band-aid off, cut the cord, finish it before it got harder.

Yet nothing came out.

How do you break up with the girl of your dreams, the girl you love?

Oliver couldn't.

She had to be the one to make the decision.

She had to end them because he never would.

Startling him out of his reverie, Felicity reached across the table and tangled her fingers with his. Her skin was so soft, and he remembered thinking the same thing the very first time he had ever held her hand. He didn't know that day would have led them to here, to almost two years of being together and being in love. And now maybe all of it was about to go away.

Life had a funny sense of humour.

"Can we just pretend this conversation didn't happen? I want to enjoy the rest of today, okay?" his girlfriend implored, voice thick with emotion as though she could sense his melancholy thoughts.

Another question. Another chance to do what he believed needed to be done.

Another time he couldn't.

"Yeah, sure, of course."

He smiled and so did she but neither of them reached their eyes.

And to him that was the saddest part.

So what did you guys think? I'm a little rusty and both the flashback and present day conversations could have gone in about a million different directions so I hope you like the direction I chose for now! If you have time, please drop me a review and let me know what you thought! Hearing from you guys really does encourage and motivate my writing :) Hope you enjoyed it, thanks for taking the time to read! :)