I don't want to turn this into a huge announcement, but I for once feel like I have to add some… defensive comments going into a chapter. Because I have the feeling that some people will use the review field to tell me that what's happening here is a danger that Oliver wouldn't take. So, let me tell you: I know. And I can't disagree. I thought about this for quite some time and ultimately I came to a simple conclusion: It's stupid, but I wanted this to happen anyway. Period. So, the Arrow-mode stays offline even longer. I apologize.

Also: It was brought to my attention in a completely unrelated matter that there's a debate going on about where Starling City is located exactly. Apparently, Star City is at the West Coast? I never thought about it, because I was always sure that Starling was further east – especially since Felicity mentioned to Oliver that she moved 1000 miles to work at QC… But since this is a story for a show that has John Diggle calling Felicity's cellphone, asking her where she is, only for her not to answer that question and still he mysteriously calls the landline at Oliver's old CEO-office, I think we can all agree to just cut me some slack regarding this possible inconsistency. The same goes for mentions of Felicity's past and family. I wrote this chapter before episode five of season three aired, so some things are a little off.

Puh, okay. And now to the fun part. The biggest cyber-hug goes to all my lovely reviewers: NorthernLights25, sakura-blossom62, cruzstar, ldjkitten, shellybeee, PiratePrincess16, ReaderKas, onetreefan, Horsebot3000, farmgirl1964, lizb1813, emilyhotchner-olicity-bethyl, Melcole24, LachesisBenton, TygTag, alemap74, michellemaldonado, SmoakingQueen, Yelena89, LillyD11, Sammysaurus95, championofjustice27, Lil5weetie, iluvfangs (times six *heart*), Ann, KillingMEsoftly and two guest who asked more so kindly. ;-) I know a group hug will feel a little awkward, but feel individually and platonically loved! ;-) Thank you guys so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter despite all the things I said before!

11. Let's compare scars

The knife felt good in his hand. It was perfectly balanced and perfectly sharp. He had to give that to the guy who had tried to kill him with it only to get killed himself: He had known good knifes; aiming with this one and throwing it was fairly easy. Still, Oliver would have preferred a bow. But the chances of finding one here were practically non-existent. A bow was a very special weapon. It was understated, not as intimidating as a gun. It was also harder to use, needed more practice and coordination than pressing one trigger. You couldn't put on a show with a bow like you could with a knife, so it was highly unlikely that the mercenaries would use one. Building one was just as unlikely. Oliver knew that you couldn't create a decent bowstring just like that.

That was too bad. Because even though he knew how to use a gun perfectly – aiming was his bread and butter, after all –, but he wasn't able to make bullets. Arrows and arrowheads, on the other hand, he could make them in his sleep. If he had a bow ammunition wouldn't be a problem. Making it would also have kept him occupied, which was always a good thing.

Despite all of this, right now the knife really was the weapon of choice; it was the best for the task at hand. His body flat to the ground, the knife tightly in his hand, Oliver crawled over the bank toward the small stream. Other than the river they had nearly drowned in this morning, it was a small and slowly flowing creek. They had set camp next to it. Oliver could see Felicity sitting by the small fire he had lit, watching him silently. He placed his complete attention on the water, watching, waiting for the right moment, he lay there unmoving. Then, suddenly, his right hand snapped forward and the knife connected. Getting to his feet he reached for the fish that was swimming belly up. With quick movements he prepared the fish, cut of the gills and the large blood vessels near the spine, he also gutted and scaled it, before he did the same to another fish that had already been laying next to him. Both fishes impaled on sticks, he headed to Felicity. "Dinner," he informed her.

She took the fish he offered her. "Fish and sticks, awesome."

Sarcasm was dripping from the last word, but he ignored it and just held his own fish over the fire. "Just think of it as camping," he offered, knowing how lame he sounded.

"I always hated camping. I only did it once and we went back home after one night when my mother nearly started a wildfire."

"Camping stove?" Oliver asked.

"Cigarette," Felicity answered. She sighed and finally moved her own fish closer to the fire. "How do we know the fish is done?"

"It's good to eat when the meat flakes of," Oliver answered and looked up at the already darkening sky. The sun would set soon. They would have to put out the fire once it was dark to not give away their position. He just hoped their dinner would be ready by then. He cleared his throat slightly. "So, your mother, huh?" God, he was so bad at starting conversations like that. "You already told me that she was... your mother. And a cocktail-waitress in Las Vegas."

Felicity's eyes settled on him. Slowly, she nodded. "She is. Both."

Tilting his head to the side a little bit, he looked at her, waiting for her to give him more than that.

Finally, she sighed. "We don't have the best relationship," she admitted. "She's... My mother is..." She trailed off.

Oliver felt like he had already had this exact conversation with her. "She's your mother," he offered her a way to end the sentence.

His quip failed to amuse her. An uneasy expression on her face she nodded and continued to stare into the fire, sitting stiffly next to him, Indian style, while she held on to the stick with both hands.

"Hey," he said softly and brought his right hand to her knee, "you have met my mother, the scheming liar. Whatever yours did, I'm certain it can't beat the actions of mine."

Taking her eyes off the flames, she placed them on him. "At least you didn't catch your mother making out with your prom date."

That sentence hit him a little unprepared. He blinked. "What?"

"Yeah, exactly. That evening didn't go as planned." An unamused snort escaped her. "And it took me forever to find the perfect dress. What a waste!" Her left hand let go of the stick to move through the air. "And your mother didn't show up completely wasted at your school's open house. The principle actually informed child services after that. It caused me to spent two months in foster care."

"How old were you when that happened?"

"Nine. But to be fair: Mom sobered up pretty quickly afterwards. Did everything, detoxing, AA meetings, twelve steps, sponsors, the whole program. Ultimately, people decided that it would benefit her recovery, if I went back to live with her."

"Did she stay sober?"

"Yes, she did."

Oliver was relieved to hear that. Tightening his hand, he gave her knee a comforting squeeze. "She did that for you. She fought for you. Means that she does love you."

"Yes, I know. I know she loves me. But she's just so messed up. Makes it hard to be around her. She's always carefree and careless. Having fun and men – those are the only things she really cares about." Felicity sighed. "Thank God after graduation I had some job offers already lining up. From QC, of course. Apple also wanted me, Google, Blizzard and the NSA."

"The NSA?" He looked at her in disbelieve. "And you honestly chose QC?"

"Starling City was further away from Nevada." She shrugged. "Plus I have bad history with them."

"You have a bad history with the NSA?"

"I might have hacked them one time..."

"You hacked the NSA?"

"I did. I was thirteen and I got caught. That was a whole new dimension of teenage-angst, let me tell you. First and only time my mom went into mother-mode. Grounded me for a whole month. Thank God, the NSA was embarrassed by getting bested by a thirteen year old that went by the name 'barbie girl' or I would have gone to jail." Her eyes snapped to him. "I was ordered by the court to never tell anybody about it, but I know you're good at keeping secrets, so..."

There were so many things that needed clarification he didn't know where to start. He just reached for the most irritating information. "Your mother grounded you for a whole month?"

"Yeah, no TV and no computer."

"Wow, when she goes into mother-mode there's obviously no stopping her," he remarked dryly, but realized in the next moment that he hardly was the one to talk. After he had pissed on that cop while completely wasted, his mother hadn't even grounded him – a disapproving glance was all he had received. He placed his eyes on Felicity, "So, you got into the habit of hacking very early on?"

"I did. I never turned getting caught into a habit, though..."

"That's good, we should keep it that way." She nodded agreement and he added, "I'm glad you chose QC."

"Me too." She smiled, but sobered quickly. "I'm sure your childhood was different from mine."

"Very different," he admitted, "easier, I guess."

"You saved the hard part for later on."

He nodded and was about to say something to that when she switched the stick with the fish she was still holding to the flames from her right to her left hand. Instantly, his own left her knee and reached for her now free hand to get a better look at the dark spots that were lining up on her wrist. The bruises were an angry blue bordering on purple – and they were his doing. He had known that he had held on to her tightly while they had been trying to reach that branch and get out of the water, but he hadn't known he had bruised her so badly. How had he not seen that before? Those marks he had left on her body were hard to miss.

Sensing that he was about to say something and guessing correctly what he felt like saying, she stated, "Don't you dare apologize for this. We wouldn't have made it out of the river together if you hadn't held on tightly."

Knowing that she was right didn't make this any better. Still, he nodded and swallowed the "I'm sorry," that was dancing on his tongue.

"If you want to talk about bruises I suggest you lift your shirt."

His eyes, which had been glued to her bruised wrist, snapped to her face. He felt caught, but tried to act aloof in the next moment. Feigning non-understanding, he frowned a little, "what?"

"Quit the bad acting," she said strictly. "I can see how carefully you're moving." She reached over to the hem of his t-shirt, which had been white once but had turned very filthy in the last days. Dirt and mud were mixing with bloodstains, which were a reminder of the fistfight that had ended with a split lip. Ignoring his obvious disagreement, she pulled his shirt up and gasped. He had anticipated it looking bad. Every move he made, he felt it and as he now glanced down he saw an angry bruise spread over his right rib cage. The coloring ranged from a dark-blue that bordered on black to a soft purple around the edges. "God," was all Felicity said to that.

Tugging on the shirt until she let go he pulled the cloth down again. "It's nothing. They are not broken, I think, cracked at the most. I've had worse."

"Oh, great," she said sarcastically, "'that really makes it better!" She looked at him for a moment, thinking, her face unreadable. With the air of a decision being made, she then rammed her stick into the ground so that the fish was above the flames and took Oliver's out of his hands to position it next to hers in the same manner. He had sat on the ground with his legs stretched out beside the fire, but as she now gestured for him to make room for her he spread his legs to allow her to sit between them, which she quickly did. Facing him and with her legs left and right to his waist, she pulled his shirt up again.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I want to take a look at the worse."

"Felicity..." he sighed and there was enough defiance in his voice to halt her.

Her hands stilled in mid-movement, but her eyes showed a certain determination as they landed on his. "I've seen them before, you know. You run around shirtless all the time. All the time. And I was there when you compared scars with Sara and John. That was like a really weird pissing contest. I remember perfectly how you said that you've never been hit by a grenade before. Like, in a 'maybe-I-should-try-that'-kind of way."

A sad smile showed on his face. "You really did feel left out that day, huh? But we're no club you should want to join."

"Well, I have a scar now," she motioned to her right shoulder, finally letting go of his shirt, "bullet. But it wasn't deep."

Knowing that the slightly proud way she said that shouldn't amuse him the way it did, he fought to keep his face strict. "I was there, Felicity. And I still remember Sara comm-ing in that you've been shot. That isn't exactly the fondest memory I have regarding you."

"Let me tell you, Oliver, I know what that feels like." Seemingly annoyed, she stared at him for a moment until her face softened. "You don't want to talk about it. That's okay. I should stop pressuring you." The tone in her voice showed that she was serious about this. She really was ready to let it slide.

But for once, he wasn't. "You never asked before. Why do you want to know now?"

She hesitated shortly before she answered. "It's the island," she admitted then. "Being here on Hell makes me wonder what Purgatory was like..." She trailed off. Bringing her hand to his cheek, she offered him a small smile. "You were so different when we first met. So very intense. When you brought me in to Team Arrow – yeah, I call us that occasionally – back then you were so hard and... It's hard to describe. But after these last days... I can see why you were like that and... I don't want you to become that guy again."

He pressed his lips together as his face hardened. Hearing her voice those worries tore at his insides, because that honestly was a worst-case scenario. The Oliver Queen who had returned to Starling City two years ago hadn't been the nicest guy. He had seen people as targets, he had seen potential threats everywhere, he had not trusted anybody, had kept everybody at arm-length. That Oliver Queen had been all act and all business. That Oliver Queen had been nothing but a weapon.

But even though Oliver feared many things regarding this second time on an island, the possibility of turning into that guy again wasn't one of them. The danger of that was practically non-existent. Because Felicity as here with him.

The first time he had met her marked the moment he had started leaving the uncaring version of himself behind. Meeting her had been a turning point in his life; it had been the best direction to head to, because it had ended him up with her.

Misinterpreting his reaction and his silence, Felicity now stiffened a little, her hand left his cheek. "I don't mean it like I didn't like you back then. I did, I mean, I seriously crushed on that guy. But it's just that you-"

He stopped her with a kiss. Quickly, he brought his lips to hers, while his arms closed around her and pulled her even closer to him. When they finally parted, he kept his face close to hers. "I won't become that guy again. Because you're here. You keep me from becoming that... intense again."

"You're still pretty intense," she mumbled, but hurry to add, "in a good way. I like this intensity of this."

He couldn't help but chuckle softly, but caught himself quickly. Giving in to a sudden impulse, he leaned his upper body back, reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. The sun was about to disappear, the twilight of sunset was around them, spreading fire over the sky, but it was still enough light to show off his marked chest perfectly. He motioned to the scar below his right shoulder. "That was the first one." He saw the surprise on her face, but she caught herself quickly. Slowly she brought her hand up, her fingers traced the scar tissue that nearly formed a perfect circle with frizzed out endings. He looked past her, staring toward the trees, as he continued, "I had just buried my father when I was shot from behind." He pointed toward his back with his right hand. "An arrow. Through-and-through. Hurt like a bitch. Obviously freaked me out. Yao Fei did it, he was Shado's father." He cleared his throat. "Believe it or not, but he turned into my first mentor on the island."

Felicity frowned as her fingers still traced the uneven skin. "So this was his version of tough love?"

"Something like that." He dared to look at her. "It's ugly, I know."

Surprised, her eyes snapped to his. For a few moments she just looked at him and for once he had absolutely no idea what she was thinking. What she did next, it caught him completely by surprise. Leaning forward she brought her lips to his scar. Gently, she kissed it, giving it attention Oliver wasn't used to. His scars, they caused people to gasp and look at him with pity and shock, but they had never caused anybody to caress them, to study them in this way. Her lips moved over his chest, trailing kisses across it to his Bratva tattoo and higher. Her lips left his skin and were replaced with her fingers. His breath hitched in his throat when her fingertips found the scar on his left shoulder, an even uglier protruding thing. Softly, she traced it with a feather-light touch as she looked at it, before she brought her lips to his marked skin again. Without really noticing what he was doing, he closed his eyes. All he was able to do right now was enjoy it, enjoy the slow teasing attention she was giving him, the trail of kisses she left over his chest, the softness and gentleness of it, the feelings it arose in him.

When he felt her hands pressing against his chest, a clear signal that she wanted him to lay onto his back, he came back to his senses. His eyes snapped open as he realized how completely he had dared to place his attention on her touch and anyway from his surroundings. "Felicity," he caught her hands with his, lifting them off his skin, "we need to stop." She looked at him in question and he felt like adding, "This is not safe."

"This is the safest we've been since we arrived here."

"There are guys after us, guys with guns." Really, he had to be the voice of reason here? She had to be kidding him!

"You spent one hour setting traps around the camp. Plus – there's this creek that's going nearly full circle around our position. You said yourself that nobody could cross it without making a sound."

"I know-"

"You said we were safe here for now. You said that before you started fishing."

That was true, he had said that. Of course, it had been a wild guess. He wanted to say more, but this time it was her cutting him off with a kiss. It was a passionate kiss, and it ignited the smoldering flame inside him that he had tried to extinguish.

He was about to give up his weak resistance, when she suddenly broke the connection again. "But you're right, your ribs are bruised. You're hurting, and we should-"

Another sentence was left unfinished as his lips crashed down on hers. He had contemplated fighting it, but he knew that the fight had been lost before it had even begun, because he was only fooling himself, if he acted like he didn't want this, like he didn't want this to happen right now.

His hands cupped her cheeks as he deepened the kiss. Parting his lips, his tongue tipped against hers while her hands flew to his stomach before they traveled to his sides and further to his back. Their tongues danced around each other and intensified the longing until Oliver couldn't take it any more. Letting go of her face, he reached for her blouse and the first button. With skilled fingers he opened them one by one until he ended the kiss and brushed the blouse back over her shoulder. Now it was him touching his lips to her skin, kissing her cleavage, nibbling at her collarbone, while his hands danced down her spine. Her breathing was getting heavier and her hands rested against his chest again.

This time he followed her wordless request, let go of her and sank back onto the forest floor. She moved to sit onto his legs; his hands moved to her waist. For a long moment they looked at each other, eyes fixed on the other one and Oliver couldn't remember her ever looking more beautiful. Her blond hair was wild around her head, her lips were reddened, filled with blood from all their kissing and there was a spark in her eyes he had never seen before. It was a beautiful promise that excited him, made the need inside him grow. By then he was far too lost in all of this to waste one thought on the fact that it wasn't the smartest thing to do this right here and right now.

The last traces of light were dimly visible; the stars were starting to make an appearance in the evening sky. He could see them freckle behind Felicity as he looked up at her. It was a beautiful backdrop, but in the next moment it was drowned out by Felicity bringing her hands to her back and unclasping her bra. Now his breathing was getting heavier as nothing shielded her from his searching eyes. A small smile on her lips she bent down again. Their naked chests were touching, there were absolutely no barriers between them and it was an amazing sensation. Her hands roamed his body with her lips following, both slowly, thoroughly caressing his chest, his stomach, before she started to fumble with the button of his Arrow-pants.

Stopping her he reached for her and flipped them over, ignoring the pain coming from his throbbing ribs. Now it was he towering above her, gazing down at her with a small smile on his face. She returned the smile and brought her hands up to his neck. Again they kissed, passionately, demandingly, while her hands gently tugged on the hair on his neck. Her hands rested on his head as his lips left hers to start their own exploring on her body. Her skin felt so soft under his searching hand and lips. All of this was pure bliss: the sensation of her hardening nipple in his mouth, the soft moans that left her lips, the way she arched against him as he let his fingertips trail up the inside of her naked leg.

They didn't rush this but took their time for gentle exploring and soft caressing. He had waited for this for years and he wanted to do this right, treat her right. Bit by bit the rest of their clothing was discarded; each garment dropping to the ground next to them a new revelation. And when she finally stopped the teasing and closed her hand around him, her thumb brushing over the tip, her fingers stroking, all he could do was let his head fall back and enjoy. A deep groan left his mouth as he closed his eyes. The excitement her skilled fingers caused grew stronger and he knew he had to stop her, if he wanted to avoid a premature ending. Opening his eyes, he saw that she was looking at him, watching his every reaction with a smile playing around her lips that he found too sexy. He answered it with a grin of his own, reached for her and flipped them over once again.

Dipping his tongue against her neck he brushed it upwards against her pulse point before he nibbled at her earlobe. Meanwhile his hand slid down her body toward her center, between her legs where wetness greeted him. A soft moan was his reward as he found her sweet spot and brushed against it. Her heavy breath brushed his ear shell and he knew there was no need to wait any longer. He kissed her again as he positioned himself between her legs. Her arms flew around him and he felt her fingers digging into his back as he slowly entered her. He had to stop kissing her, had to close his eyes, because of this was nearly too much. Not even his bruised and hurting ribs could destroy it. The ecstasy was by far exceeding the pain.

Finally he opened his eyes again and looked down at her. Their eyes connected and there was no need to ask or say anything. Slowly he stared to move. Not taking their eyes off each other, they moved in sync. As he thrusted into her, she brought her hips up. Their skin rubbed together so perfectly. Slowly, nearly lazily they moved, taking their time to build the tension. He had waited so long and now he wanted this to last forever, wanted to burn every aspect of it into his memory: the way she breathed through her slightly parted lips, how her eyes fluttered closed for a second, before she forced them open again to look at him, the way how her legs closing around him caused him to enter her deeper. All of this was memorable. The tension built inside him more and more and caused his movements to steadily grow a little quicker. Her breathing became harder and he could sense how close she was. Knowing that he wouldn't last much longer either, he brought his hand down between her legs and pressed his thumb against her pleasure point. He was rewarded with a surprised moan first and then with the wonderful view she presented him as he sent her over the edge. She fluttered around him, her body tensed while her face relaxed and his name left her lips in a soft whisper. It was enough to make him follow her with one last hard thrust.

Instantly afterward he captured her lips with his and kissed her hard until he couldn't any longer. Both were gasping for air when they parted. They looked at each other in their post-orgasmic bliss and all Oliver could think was that he had been right before: This was most definitely worth dying for.