A/N: Bam! New chapter! I'll see you all in the A/N below :)

Chapter Ten

Coffee. When Felicity groggily opened her eyes that was the first thing she smelled – coffee and something sweet. She turned on her side, stretching her arm out across the empty side of the bed beside her. The shower pounded softly from the bathroom. Resting on his pillow was a sheet of the hotel stationary, Oliver's messy scrawl alerting her to the coffee and cinnamon rolls on the table.

She climbed out of bed and padded over to the table, lazily scratching at her shoulder through the thin material of her sleep shirt.

Yes, she was still wearing her sleep shirt. She was wearing all her clothes, actually, or at least those she wore to bed. Not that things hadn't been heading a different, less clothed, direction early that morning when they stumbled into the hotel room, exploring each other with such abandon that they knocked over a tall lamp. Things were chugging right along that route, careening toward things that Felicity had always strictly kept to dreams, when she had a sudden urge to stop. She knew they had to stop. Things were moving fast and while she was sober, she wasn't entirely sure he could say the same. She'd waited over a year for what was about to happen, and she wanted it to be perfect, not some drunken romp after a wedding. There was no need to go at full speed and do everything at once. They had time.

So, she laid her hands on his chest and mindfully put distance between them as she asked if they could slow down. And Oliver, the man whom she was moderately sure had never gone slow in his life, framed her face with his hands and told her, "Slow sounds good."

She slept in his arms that night and although there were layers of clothes and blankets between them, she'd never felt closer to him.

Felicity sipped her coffee quietly, thoughts lazily drifting in and out of everything that happened. Everything that could have happened. It was one of the more eventful weekends in her recent memory, and that was saying something considering what her and Oliver did on a daily basis in the foundry. She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand.

10:10.

They had fifty minutes until brunch. It was funny to think how there would be some truth to the charade her and Oliver were putting on now. How much truth was still up for debate, but still, something had happened. Something real, and wonderful, and –

The shower turned off.

She could hear him rustling around as he got dressed. Maybe this would be a familiar sound to her one day. His routine and habits settling so deep into hers that it barely registered anymore. She liked the thought of that – of them blending their lives. She'd always wanted that, even if she hadn't seen it in her own home growing up. She had this friend Tabby back in Vegas, and sometimes after school she'd go to Tabby's home and they'd watch TV or play games on their old Apple desktop. Secretly, Felicity's favorite part of going there was for Tabby's parents. They had this quiet contentment between them – like just being in each other's company was enough for them. Felicity always thought it was nice, how easy and simple their love seemed.

The bathroom door opened and Oliver walked out, wiping his hands on the back of his dark wash jeans.

"You're up," he said by way of greeting.

"I am," she returned. "Thank you for the coffee and cinnamon rolls. When did you get up?"

"About nine," he said, shrugging. His demeanor was flippant – cold even – and she knew what was coming without having to ask.

"Felicity, I –"

"It was a mistake," she interrupted, voice dull and lifeless. She pushed away the cinnamon roll that had looked appetizing a few minutes earlier, her appetite gone. Oliver looked at her in surprise and she said, "That's what you were going to say, right?"

"How-"

"I know you," she said bitterly, standing up and walking toward the bed. She grabbed her watch off the nightstand and slid it on, the clasp fastening with an angry click. "Which is why I should have seen this coming."

"Felicity, please, let me explain," he implored, stepping closer.

"No need," she said, walking over to the suitcase. She didn't have the stomach right then to listen to his excuses which in the end meant nothing. She crouched down and pulled the suitcase lid back, rifling through the clothes until she found her dress for the brunch. "I know every line, Oliver. Every word. You let things get out of hand. You care about me, but you're not willing to put me in danger."

She straightened up and stared him down as he just stood there in silence. He wasn't pushing for her to hear him out, and for that she was grateful.

"What I don't know, though," she began, "is how you fight for so much. You fought for your father and for this city, but you won't even try to fight for this."

Oliver shook his head. "It's not that simple –"

"That's the thing," she interrupted, voice pained. "It should be."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Please know how sorry I am, Felicity."

"You know what? For once in my life, just once, I would like to not be on the receiving end of an apology. Because that would mean people were done hurting me."

She saw him body strain toward her but he pulled back, clenching his fists. He was always the one comforting her – being there for her when the world was cruel – but now he was the problem and he couldn't see a way to fix it.

"Please find an early flight back to Starling City," Felicity said. "I'm going to the brunch by myself. I'd like you to be gone by the time I check out."

"Okay," he said, sounding just about as defeated as she felt. She knew she should probably edge more toward anger – he deserved it – but she didn't have the energy. She felt like she could barely get herself to the bathroom and pull the door closed.

She took her time getting dressed, listening to Oliver arrange his flight home outside. She heard him set up the family jet to fly to O'Hare. She hadn't even thought of that for the way there.

When she was dressed she walked out, Oliver glancing up at her from a chair facing toward her beside the table.

"I have a flight set for noon."

"I heard," she said.

"Felicity-"

"I'm going to go," she said quickly, picking her clutch from the bed and tucking it under her arm. He went to say something else, but she'd already made her way to the door, closing it noisily behind her.

BBBBB

Felicity spent some time before the brunch wandering around the city. She walked past the elaborate store windows without really seeing, her mind still back in the hotel room with Oliver. She should have known he would pull away. After everything he'd told her over the months – everything she'd seen – she should have seen it coming. The knowledge that his reaction was inevitable did little to assuage the pain in her chest.

She'd always thought that if he cared about her enough that he'd be able to overcome all the can't-be-with-someone-I-love stuff, but that wasn't the case. Or maybe he just didn't care about her enough. Love her enough.

She made her way back to The Drake and arrived at the dining room exactly at eleven o'clock. The group was already assembled at a table and she walked over, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"And now we have everyone!" Taylor said happily, waving Felicity over. Taylor noticed Oliver's absence and said, "Hold on, no we don't. Where's Oliver?"

"He's not coming," she said, settling at the open seat beside Lydia.

"What do you mean he's not coming?" Taylor said. "Is he upstairs?"

"No," Felicity said evasively, grabbing her napkin and draping it over her lap. "He took an early plane back to Starling."

"I don't understand," Taylor said. "Did you two have a fight or something?"

Felicity shook her head, pressing her lips together as her eyes filled with tears. Sadie noticed Felicity's tight hold on her composure and reached forward, laying her hand on her wrist.

"Felicity, whatever it was, it'll blow over. You'll see."

Sadie was so wrong that Felicity didn't even know where to begin. Things wouldn't blow over. They wouldn't get better. It was over. She realized then, sitting at the table, that her and Oliver would never have what they had again. And it was more than just the moment that morning. Their entire relationship was altered – she could feel it – and at the thought that one of her closest friendships was likely irreparably harmed she broke down.

"What the hell happened?" Lydia said, wrapping her arm around Felicity's shoulder. "You guys were fine on the beach."

"It's a lie," Felicity said, wiping at her eyes. "All of it. Oliver and I aren't dating. We never were."

"Wait, what?" Lydia said, pulling her arm back. "What are you talking about?"

"I made it up," Felicity said. "You guys were always after me about why I wasn't dating someone, so I made up the stuff about Oliver and I to get you guys off my back."

"Were we really that bad?" Sadie asked, voice concerned.

"No," Felicity said. "I mean, yeah. Kind of. But, I never thought it would come to anything, but then Taylor wanted me to bring him to the wedding…"

"I can't believe you were lying to us all this time," Lydia said. "I'm sort of impressed. You guys really sold it."

Sadie had been watching Felicity's expression as Lydia spoke and she said, "That's because it wasn't all a lie, was it? You like him."

Felicity sighed and said, "No, I love him."

At the words, Felicity felt lighter. It was as if she was carrying this heavy weight around with her – the weight of her feelings – and now she was finally free. Although she'd had that little talk with Lydia earlier about Oliver, she had never openly said she loved him. Part of her was afraid to say it because of what it meant, but after what happened there was no denying her feelings. She loved him, and now she was paying the price.

"Well, then, why don't you tell him that? I saw the way he looked at you last night," Sadie pressed. "I saw the way he was with you."

Felicity was silent and Lydia gasped.

"Something happened!" Lydia said.

The entire table – less Felicity – erupted into a chorus of voices as they demanded that Felicity tell them what had transpired. Felicity caved and told them everything. She already was in a sharing mood, and she found herself peppering in bits of her own thoughts and feelings on what happened, and how much Oliver had hurt her. She left out the parts about Oliver's secret life, covering it up with a suggestion that he was bad at relationships, and wanted to keep her safe from his shortcomings in that department.

"That ass," Lydia hissed. "He didn't want to hurt you? Maybe he shouldn't have been leading you on. Or, you know, shoving his tongue down your throat."

Felicity winced. "I did kiss him first."

"Yeah, well, he kissed back. And from the sound of it, he wasn't holding back."

"I thought when it happened that it meant he was past all his hangups," Felicity said. "I thought we were moving forward toward something."

"I'm really sorry, Felicity," Taylor said, reaching over the table and laying her hand over Felicity's. "And to think that I'm sort of the reason all of this happened. If I hadn't insisted you bring him…"

"Don't even start," Felicity said, grasping her hand and giving it a quick squeeze. "This was a long time coming, Tay. If it didn't happen now it would have happened later. At least now it's done and I can move on."

"So, what are you going to do?" Sadie asked. "I mean, he's your boss. That could be a little uncomfortable."

Felicity had thought about that. The foundry was going to be a difficult place to be in for a while, but she took her work there too seriously to let what happened get in the way.

"It won't affect my work," she said after a moment. "I love it too much. But, yeah, it's going to be difficult. Seeing him all the time. It won't be easy."

"Well, Queen Consolidated is a pretty big company," Sadie returned reasonably. "Maybe you won't see him that often."

"Yeah, maybe I won't," Felicity said, thinking of the actual three person office they worked in. Her thoughts turned to Digg. She wondered if he would be able to sense a shift between them. He probably would.

"Anyway, you don't need him," Lydia said. "Or any man, for that matter. You are fabulous on your own. And one day, if you are so inclined, you will find someone just as fabulous. I'm sure of it."

BBBBB

Felicity took an afternoon flight back to Starling City, catching a cab back to her townhouse once she'd grabbed her luggage and headed out of the airport. The cab driver was particularly chatty, asking her about her trip and then launching off on some story about his own trip to Chicago a few years prior where he'd spent the entire time trying to catch a sight of Oprah Winfrey.

"I never saw her," he finished glumly, parking in front of her townhouse. "But I did get a picture in front of Harpo Studios and the Hancock building. She lived there, you know. The Hancock building, not Harpo Studios."

"That's interesting," Felicity lied, because none of what he was telling her was actually interesting. She'd had a long day, and the last thing she wanted to do was to make conversation with her cab driver, as nice as he seemed.

"Do you need help with your bags?"

"No, I should be fine," she said, reaching in her purse and pulling out her wallet. She plucked a twenty dollar bill from the wallet and handed it over.

"You can keep the change," she told him, factoring in his tip.

The cab driver grinned and said, "Thanks. You have a nice night, now!"

"You too," she said, climbing out and pulling her suitcase behind her. It was then that she saw Oliver sitting on the front steps of the house. He was looking at her and stood when he saw she'd noticed him. She gave her suitcase an angry tug and walked toward him.

"What are you doing here?" she said.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"We have nothing to talk about," she said, stepping past him. She struggled to get her suitcase up the stairs and Oliver reached down and lifted it.

"I don't need your help," she said irritably, tugging the suitcase away from his grasp.

"It looked like you did," he argued lightly.

"Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving," she shot back. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her keys and opened the door. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was still standing there. "Look, I really don't want to talk to you right now. It's been a long day. My flight was delayed and the airplane food was predictably awful, so I'm starving. Just…leave it for tonight, okay?"

"I can't," he said. His expression was pained, and she felt a flare of anger. He had no right to feel anything about all of this, and yet at the same time she knew that he did. She knew that he really did think he was protecting her. He really did think that this was all in her best interest. But it didn't make it any less painful or infuriating.

"Well, that's too bad," she said, grasping the doorknob tightly. "Because I can't do this right now."

"Felicity, please," he said. He moved up one step toward her. "I need to know you're okay." He paused. "I need to know we're okay."

She shook her head. "No, I'm not, Oliver. I'm not okay."

His eyes darkened. "And us?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know yet."

He held her gaze for a moment and she felt heat rise on her cheeks. She broke their gaze and he cleared his throat before saying, "Okay, um, I'll let you unpack then. Will I see you tomorrow at the foundry?"

She nodded. "Yep. I'll be there."

"Okay. Good. So, I will just see you then."

She nodded. "Yeah."

He turned back toward the street and Felicity watched him walk away from the house. Impulsively she called out for him and he turned back, eyes hopeful.

"Yeah?"

"I just need some time," she said. "For us. I just need some time."

He nodded, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Eyes travelling over the planes of her face he murmured goodnight and his voice caressed her name, making chills runs down her back.

"Goodnight, Felicity."

She grasped the door, wishing she wouldn't have to close it alone. "Goodnight, Oliver."

A/N: Don't hate me! This will have a happy ending, but I couldn't resist the angst! Next chapter will have some Digg-Oliver chats and you can bet Digg will NOT be happy.