AN: After an embarrassingly long hiatus, I am finally posting the conclusion to this tale. I have to admit, it's been finished for a while - almost a year - but remained in my notebook, gathering dust, until now. For all of you who have followed, favorited, and reviewed this story: I hope that you find this a satisfying end to the Arrow fic you took a chance on all those months ago. I know there is an incalculable number of fanfics out there, written by much more talented and dedicated authors than yours truly, so just the fact that you clicked on mine at all makes me very happy. :)

I'm sure many have given up on my ever finishing this story, which is understandable. So if you are reading this now, thanks for being such a trooper.

Now, how about we finally hear what Ms. Smoak has to say?

- H


Who in the world is Felicity Smoak?

Rather, who in the world had she been before?

The question had been only one of many plaguing Felicity's mind in the weeks following their narrow escape from Battleship Island, but it was this question in particular that remained forefront in her thoughts at all times. On the surface, it wasn't that complex. She'd had the answer first supplied by Oliver, and again by the friends waiting for her back in Star City; answered with the pictures they'd shown, in the stories shared. She also received help with the answer by her own mother, who'd wrapped her arms around Felicity for a full ten minutes at first sight. It had been a tearful reunion for them both; her mother crying into her shoulder as she whispered "my baby" over and over had resulted in a well spring of tears from Felicity's own eyes because she still couldn't remember this woman, regardless of how natural it felt to be in her arms.

Donna remained in Starling for five days, taking care of Felicity by bringing her warm milk in bed, keeping her up well into the night for movie marathons, regaling her more colorful childhood idiosyncrasies, and taking her on numerous shopping excursions. Felicity had endured it all without complaint, seeing that such "care" was helping her mother more than she. And she had tried to not show her relief upon Donna's announcement that she would be returning to Las Vegas.

Diggle had offered to drive them to the airport, staying in the car as Felicity walked her to the security checkpoint where they said their goodbyes.

"Thank you. For staying with me. For everything. It helped," Felicity offered with a smile.

Donna stopped walking to set her bags on the floor and fixed Felicity with a pointed look, her bright pink lips turning down. "You always were a terrible liar. At least that hasn't changed."

Felicity ducked her head, feeling stupid and a little ashamed for thinking Donna wouldn't see through the lie in her words. "Hey," Donna said softly, taking Felicity's face in her hands and raising her chin when she didn't respond. "You're still my baby girl. That hasn't changed either. I'll see you soon, okay?"

Felicity could only nod in reply. Donna then kissed her forehead before releasing her face and retrieving her bags. "Let your friends help you, Felicity. They love you, whether you remember that or not."

When she'd returned to the car blinking away the last bit of remaining tears, Digg drove them away from the airport in silence. Several minutes passed by before she found she could handle the quiet no longer. "How's Sara doing?" she asked him. Felicity had met his adorable baby girl at a homecoming dinner a few nights prior, but Lyla had departed early when Sara became fussy.

"Teething," Digg answered. "When she's not crying, she's slobbering on everything. Can't be a fun experience for her. Guess it's a good thing none of us can remember going through it."

Felicity stilled at his words, suddenly wishing she'd just endured the silence of the car ride. "I guess so."

"Felicity, I-"

"No, it's okay," she interrupted. "You don't have to walk on eggshells around me. Maybe it is better to forget some things." She didn't know why she said that. When out of the corner of her eye she saw John's head turn toward her, she wished she could take it back.

She felt sorry for herself enough; she didn't need others doing it for her, too.

"Can we just forget I said that?" she pleaded, hanging her head.

"You got it," he replied, focusing on the road ahead. "You're gonna get your memories back, Felicity," he promised.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because I know you. Your brain will work it out on its own." She appreciated his vote of confidence, but didn't respond. Neither of them broke the silence for the remainder of the ride.

For his part, Oliver had remained relatively quiet on the whole memory-recovery issue, keeping his curiosity to one simple inquiry each morning. "Anything?" he'd ask in way of greeting, his impossibly blue eyes searching hers. Every "no" was then followed by a comforting squeeze of her shoulder or hand.

He was constantly touching her this way - in small quick movements, his hand there and gone so fast that Felicity was left only to feel the lingering effects of each contact.

Which, as pleasant as they were, only left her feeling more confused. Each brush of his fingertips never failed to light a fire under her skin, sending her pulse into embarrassing overdrive. She was fairly certain he had to have noticed, and must have felt that same connection. What that connection was, she still had no idea. Nor would she ask.

She just knew that she was never closer to the truth - to uncovering the mystery of her past - than when she was near him.

It was as if her memories were right there just beneath the surface, just beyond her reach. Several times she had caught herself zoning out as she watched him, lost in some obscure thought while something else tugged at the very back of her mind. And just when she thought she might have it, her mind would slip back into the present. It was frustrating beyond belief, much like waking from a dream she was only just having; a dream she could still feel, but the details of which she was unable to recall.

As it turned out, it eventually would be a dream that sparked her first real memory. In it, Felicity was standing in front of a bank of computer screens, each one painted with a glowing red target. A woman stood next to her decked out in black leather from head to toe. She had freckles and a dimpled chin which deepened as she smiled at Felicity.

The woman put a gun in Felicity's hand and straightened her arm out in front of her, training it on the computers as she aligned her face next to hers, cheek to cheek. "Just point and shoot," she instructed.

"That easy?"

"Yep. Trust your instincts. You gotta stop overthinking it," she told her, a smile in her voice. Felicity pulled the trigger and the computer screen shattered. She let out an excited giggle, throwing her arms around the woman. Laughing, she returned Felicity's hug. "You're still cute."

At those words, the dream ended and Felicity's eyes shot open. "Sara," she whispered in her quiet room. She threw her covers back and located her shoes and car keys within seconds before heading out into the cloud-covered night. The entire drive to the Glades she focused on the dream and the memory of her friend that it had ignited.

"I have a scar," Felicity recalled telling Sara, Diggle, and Oliver as the three sparred in the lair. The rest of the details were still fuzzy, but she could plainly see Sara's dimpled smile as she regarded Felicity. Which led to Felicity remembering the events that had ended in her getting shot, the image of which caused her to jolt and swerve into the other lane.

She corrected her steering quickly, a hysterical laugh bubbling in her throat as her heart slowly returned to normal. Thankfully the streets were free of any other drivers this time of night. From where she tossed her purse in the backseat, she heard her cell phone ringing. Not wanting to risk reaching for it, she ignored it and accelerated toward the Glades, replaying the memory over and over again in her mind.

Felicity parked her Mini Cooper on the street and ran toward the alley behind Verdant. A familiar sounding engine behind her made her pause and she turned to see Oliver's Ducati screeching to a halt in front of her. He threw off his helmet and dismounted the bike, closing the distance between them before she could even blink.

"Oliver. What-"

He took hold of the tops of her arms in an almost painful grip, silencing the question on her lips. "Are you okay?" he demanded breathlessly. Felicity blinked at the urgency in his tone while attempting to calm her heart's reaction to his proximity. Why had she come here again?

"Felicity, talk to me! What is it?"

Talk to me, Felicity. Talk us through. Felicity, what is going on with you? Fe-li-ci-ty…

Felicity closed her eyes, overwhelmed with the onslaught of phrases running through her mind. The countless different ways he'd said her name before - said in frustration, in worry, humor and indulgence, anger, and…love? She opened her eyes to look into his, searching for more memories there.

"I remembered something," she told him.

Visibly angry, Oliver let out a shaky breath but not altogether releasing the tension in his frame. "You can't just leave in the middle of the night like that, Felicity. You scared the hell out of me!"

"Wait," she said, momentarily distracted. "How'd you even know I left?"

Oliver released her arms as if he'd been stung and took a step back. His guilty expression was all the answer she needed, however. "You're keeping tabs on me?!" He didn't bother responding and Felicity threw her head back, an angry laugh escaping her lips. "And you aren't even going to try and deny it."

"No," he replied. "And I'm not going to apologize for it either."

Felicity turned away from him, fuming as she again headed for the foundry's entrance. He caught up to her easily, placing his hand on the door to prevent her from opening it.

"Move out of my way, Oliver."

"Not until you understand something," he retorted, matching her tone and standing so close to her face that Felicity could smell the toothpaste on his breath. He paused before continuing in a tone softer, yet still angry. "I went 76 days having no idea where you were. Nearly three months not knowing whether or not you were safe, or unharmed, or even alive." He paused again, his struggle recalling the experience apparent.

Felicity swallowed, stifling her urge to interrupt. He fixed his haunted gaze on her once more, revealing to Felicity the depth of agony he had endured - agony that he normally kept hidden behind practiced facade.

"So I will not apologize for needing to know where you are at all times. It's hard enough letting you out of my sight as it is."

A silent stand-off followed, each of them waiting for the other to argue further. Felicity was the one who backed down first - dropping her gaze, and the subject- but only because there was something more urgent on her mind. Oliver's shoulders sagged slightly in relief before eventually opening the door for her. She pointed a finger at his face as she passed by him.

"This isn't over, Oliver. We will have a discussion on boundaries very soon," she warned.

"Yes ma'am."

Together they walked toward to the main area of the foundry where Diggle and Roy stood looking hilariously innocent. She tossed her keys onto the desk, narrowing her eyes at them as Oliver walked around her.

"Told you she'd be pissed," Roy said to Diggle under his breath.

"Shut up. All of you," she ordered when Digg opened his mouth to speak. "We'll talk about your unwanted surveillance later. There's something else I wanted to discuss first. I came over because I think I remembered something!"

"Felicity, that's great!" Digg exclaimed, obviously happy but also relieved to avoid the other conversation right then. "I knew it would come to you eventually."

"So what did you remember, blondie?" Roy asked. "Was it meeting me? Everything that happened before I joined the team is no doubt forgettable anyways."

Oliver slapped Roy on the back of his head, keeping his focus on Felicity. She laughed nervously, feeling self-conscious all of the sudden.

"Not what. Who," she began. "I remembered Sara. Big Sara. Well not big, but adult-sized."

"Arguably," Digg murmured, his smile wavering somewhat.

"I had a dream about her! She was teaching me how to shoot. When I woke up I remembered that I'd been shot! I took a bullet for her, didn't I?" Felicity stepped toward them as she spoke, becoming more excited as the memory cleared even more. Their collective expressions confused her though, for they no longer shared in her excitement.

"Getting your very own scar in the process," Digg confirmed, disapproval in his tone. Roy smiled sympathetically; Oliver's expression was unreadable.

"So where is she? Did she go back to the League of Assassins? Holy crap – that's a thing!" Felicity laughed again, realizing she'd only barely scratched the surface of the world in which she lived. Roy shifted uncomfortably, focusing on anything but Felicity. Letting out heavy sigh, Diggle turned away to rest his hands on the chrome counter top.

Oliver hadn't taken his eyes off of her though, regarding Felicity with that intense gaze of his while not answering her question; waiting for her to work it all out on her own, she guessed. And then she saw it – an image breaking through the twists and tangles of her mind; flashing suddenly, gone just as quickly, yet permanently searing itself on to her memory - Sara laid out on the med bay, her wide, lifeless eyes frozen in death.

She'd looked so small…

"Oh God." Felicity let out a strangled sob, hand flying to cover her mouth. Oliver moved toward her, but she stopped him with a raised hand. "I need a minute!"

He froze in his steps, face contorted by his own pain.

Why this? Of all the things she could have remembered, her mind conjured up the one thing Felicity would have rather stayed forgotten. Sara. Their teammate. Her friend. She dropped her hands, a thought occurring as her eyes landed on the side of Diggle's face. Gaze fixed on the empty space across the foundry, Felicity saw his Adam's Apple dip as he swallowed back his emotions.

"You named your daughter after her," she whispered. Diggle hung his head in response, unable to hide the quivering of his chin. Felicity grabbed her keys off the table and practically ran toward the door, ignoring the chorus of protests behind her. She couldn't look a them any longer; couldn't remain in the room where Sara's body had laid, a dark arrow protruding from her chest.

She barely made it into the alley when a hand gripped her arm from behind, twisting her body so that she came face to chest with Oliver. She recoiled, attempting to extricate herself out of his hold, but his strong arms were unrelenting. She pushed her hands into his chest anyway, trying to put distance between them. Feeling the hard lines of the muscles under her fingertips, she became suddenly, and inexplicably, overwhelmed with the scent of him. That masculine scent that was so uniquely his – a distinct combination of leather and soap and whatever else that had attracted her even when she had no idea who he was - rendered useless all the other senses and mental capacities she once possessed. It hadn't mattered who he was, or who she was for that matter; her body hadn't needed those details then, and it didn't care now. Raising her head to meet his gaze, she lost whatever fight she had in her at the sight of his now darkened eyes boring into hers.

Without thinking, she stood up on the very tips of her toes and planted her lips on his. The hands that had just been pushing him away now dug into his chest. Oliver stilled for a fraction of a second before reacting, moving his lips against hers. Felicity responded by running her tongue alongside the rim on his mouth, seeking entrance. An animalistic rumble of his chest reverberated into her fingertips before it escaped out of his mouth, parting his lips to allow the collision of their tongues.

Any hesitancy on his part disappeared entirely as she angled her head and deepened the kiss. He released the grip he had on her arms, and then they were everywhere – tangling in her hair, trailing down her neck, slipping underneath the loose fabric of her shirt to travel the length of her spine, and back down again to the waistband of her yoga pants. Felicity broke away from him just long enough to let out a startled sound when his hands gripped the back of her legs, lifting her body and parting her legs to wrap around him in one swift motion, before capturing her mouth again.

Oliver moved them, pushing her back against the alley wall. With the additional support, her hands were then freed to explore all the muscles she'd long been admiring from a distance. She lost all sense of time and space, his body pressed flush against hers became the center of her existence. Oliver released her lips to plant a trail of kisses down her neck, pausing to suck a particularly sensitive spot on her collarbone, sending heat straight to her core.

Felicity's hips rocked into his in response; Oliver's hands tightened on her thighs. Taking advantage of his lowered head, she took his earlobe into her mouth, biting and sucking until Oliver growled - literally growled - into her neck as his entire body reacted to her. Felicity rocked again, feeling his hardness press into her center, drawing a moan out of her that he promptly caught with his lips.

Her entire body ached for him; demanding, almost painfully, for him to be inside of her. Clumsy, shaky hands reached in between them, seeking the button of his jeans that restricted him from her. After successfully unclasping it, Oliver's mouth stilled against hers. Taking the opportunity, she glanced down at the opposing pants and shifted, creating just enough space for her hand so that she could begin working on the the zipper, but his hand shot out to stop her.

"Felicity," he breathed against her face. She met his dark eyes and saw the war behind them.

"I need you," she told him, kissing his jaw. "Now." She further reinforced her words by biting his lower lip, causing his hips to thrust into her in an unconscious, primal response. Satisfied, she resumed her work on the removal of his jeans while keeping his mouth occupied.

Oliver broke away suddenly, turning his head away from her. "No, Felicity. Not like this."

"Take me to the car then," she suggested against his ear, feeling her own pleasure build as a shiver coursed through his body. He took a step back from the wall, his hands supporting her bottom while she unwrapped her legs and planted her feet on the ground between his. He let go of her but didn't move away.

For a moment, only the sounds of their heavy breathing filled the alley as Oliver searched Felicity's face.

"How did we meet?" he asked her suddenly. Felicity drew her head back in surprise.

"What?"

"Tell me how we met," he repeated, waiting.

"Oliver, what the hell is this? Some sort of test?" Anger rose within her, blurring the lines between it and the passion she still felt. Oliver took several measured breaths, eyes darting around the alley behind her.

"You can't tell me," he muttered. "You don't know how or why you came to work with me, came to trust me. You don't even know why you're here now."

"What does that matter?!" she shot back. "I am here now! And I know what I want."

Oliver shook his head. "It matters."

"What happened to trusting my instincts?"

"This is different, Felicity," he replied, almost reprimanding, and Felicity laughed harshly. Oliver ignored the sound and continued. "I once told you that I couldn't be both Oliver Queen and the Arrow; that as long as the city needed saving, I couldn't have the life that I wanted. There were two halves of me at war and I thought I had to choose, thought that only one side could exist. Felicity, you have to reconcile both parts of your life now - the memories and feelings that are only beginning to resurface, and the very real memories of the past few months. In order for this to happen," he motioned between them. "It's going to have to be all of you, not just fragments. Do you understand?" His eyebrows furrowed, searching her face for the answer he sought.

An image flashed through her mind then - an image of this very same expression and eyes fixed upon her, the alley walls replaced by a backdrop of an ornately decorated foyer where she and Oliver stood, hands clasped as they stared into each other's eyes.

I love you. Do you understand?

Felicity blinked at the overwhelming mixture of conflicted emotions the images and words caused. A memory of Oliver's first declaration of love? Or merely a hopeless fantasy she had once conjured up?

She couldn't recall if she'd responded to him then, and couldn't find it in her to respond to him now, suddenly too exhausted and angry to fight or make sense of it all. When she turned away from him to walk back to her car, Oliver didn't follow. She drove away in a numbed state of autopilot, not stopping when she made it back to her neighborhood, nor when she reached the edge of Starling City limits. Completely lost in the vast vacuity of her mind, as it intermittently flashed random, confusing images in between thoughts of Sara and the League of Assassins; of an un-hooded Green Arrow passing a syringe into her hands, a declaration of love on his lips; and of a distant voice, vague yet eerily distinct, echoing the words "She is quite lovely – your Felicity."

Who in the world is Felicity Smoak? The question was at the end of the disorienting maze her mind had led her down, leaving her perhaps even more lost than before. With a heavy heart, she turned on the radio to drown out her thoughts as Star City disappeared in her rear-view mirror.


"Felicity?"

Felicity stood outside the Employee Only entrance of S.T.A.R. labs when she heard her name coming from the parking lot behind her. She turned to see Dr. Caitlyn Snow approaching, her kind face smiling even as her eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

"Caitlyn. Hi," she greeted while shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The white slippers she'd hurriedly thrown on a hours ago were now soaked from the light drizzle of rain she encountered upon arriving to the impressive facility. And there she had stood second-guessing herself in the half hour since, long after the rain stopped in time to make way for a gorgeous Central City sunrise – the type that Star City rarely ever saw.

"What are you doing in Central City?" Caitlyn asked as her eyes glanced over Felicity's yoga pants and tank top, but graciously not commenting on.

"I was going to ask you a favor actually," Felicity stammered. Caitlyn waited for her to continue. "Would you mind checking my head again?"

Caitlyn's expression softened even more, if that were possible, and she turned to unlock the door. "Of course not."

Two hours later, Felicity sat atop the medical exam table beneath S.T.A.R. labs waiting for the results from her head scan. Caitlyn had offered her a hoodie before she began the tests, which she'd gratefully accepted.

The tests themselves hadn't taken very long at all, especially with Caitlyn filling the air with small talk while consciously avoiding any specific questioning as to what led to Felicity's arrival. She was an excellent doctor, her bed-side manner impeccable. The familiarity between the women certainly helped what could have been an awkward situation for them both, of course. Caitlyn had been among those in attendance to Felicity's welcome home party shortly after the Alan Smoak / Battleship Island fiasco. Felicity had found her presence then a comfort among the many friendly faces she didn't recognize. Out of the lot, Caitlyn was one of the few she had spent the most time with after the island, their acquaintance evolving due to Oliver's insisting on a full medical evaluation before anything else.

Barry Allen had also been waiting with Caitlyn at the port when the first reached the mainland, where Felicity's wound was quickly tended to by the young doctor. The more extensive tests were undergone at their lab in Central City, the results of which had been Oliver's real concern. But he'd been understandably dissatisfied with the inconclusive results, for there'd been no answers as to why or how her memory had been erased. Which was what brought Felicity back here now, seeking the very same elusive answers to the questions she could barely articulate.

Felicity was sitting cross-legged on the exam table fiddling with the draw string of her pants when Caitlyn returned, biting her lip as she stared at the tablet screen in her hands. A wave of disappointment fell over Felicity, recognizing the look on her friend's face instantly.

"There's no change, is there?"

Caitlyn looked up from the screen, an apology already written on her expression.

"According to these scans all brain activity is perfectly normal, just as before," she told her. "I'm sorry I don't have anything more than that, Felicity. I can try a new round of scans, if you want. Focusing solely on the medial temporal lobe."

Felicity shook her head, blinking away unshed tears before she agitated the only pair of contacts she had on her. "That's all right, Caitlyn. Don't worry about it," Felicity replied. "I guess I sort of already knew that would be the case. It was worth a shot, I suppose." She shrugged, giving a show of indifferent acceptance though feeling anything but. From the look Caitlyn gave her, she wasn't buying it at all. She placed her tablet on the table nearby and sat down on a stool in front of Felicity.

"I know it's frustrating," Caitlyn began, touching her leg. "But - and this is my official medical opinion - I do still believe your memories will return in due time. There's no scientific reason that would lead me to think otherwise. As difficult as it may seem, you're just going to have to be patient. You've been through a lot, Felicity."

Felicity let out a breathy laugh and rose from the table. "Apparently more than I realized."

"What do you mean?"

Felicity didn't answer, instead crossing her arms and focusing intently on the tile floor.

"Felicity," Caitlyn pressed. "Did something happen? Is that why you came here?" The concern in Caitlyn's voice mirrored the look in her eyes, and Felicity quickly broke her gaze again, suppressing the image of Sara's lifeless form in her mind's eye.

"Caitlyn? You in here?" Barry Allen's voice called from the adjacent room, startling them both.

"We're in here, Barry," Caitlyn answered over her shoulder, frowning apologetically at Felicity. Barry bounced into the room, rocking back on the heels of his signature Chuck's when he spotted Felicity standing near the exam table.

"Felicity. Hey!" He gave her a once over, taking in her borrowed clothes and disheveled appearance before looking to Caitlyn in question. She didn't take her eyes off of Felicity though, and Barry stepped further into the room. "I still can't get used to the hair. I almost didn't recognize you."

"It's good to see you again, Barry," she replied with a forced smile. He glanced between she and Caitlyn.

"So what's up? What brings you to our neck of the woods?"

Caitlyn stood and turned so that she could face them both. "Felicity told me she was going to be in town so I asked her to drop by and say hi," she explained.

"It's all right, Caitlyn," Felicity interrupted. "I asked her to check by brain again. To try and find out what's wrong with me. But apparently it's not my brain that's the problem."

"Felicity, there's nothing wrong with you," Caitlyn assured her, preparing to argue further.

"Tell that to Oliver," Felicity interrupted under her breath, regretting the words immediately. Barry stepped closer, crossing his arms as he searched her face.

"Where is Oliver?" he asked.

"Patrolling Starling, I'd imagine."

"Does he know you're here?"

Felicity's head shot up, eyes flashing. "Of course. Oliver knows where I am at all times these days. I'm always on his damned radar. Literally!"

Caitlyn ducked her head at Felicity's outburst, but Barry didn't flinch, keeping his gaze on her firmly in place.

"Not always, Felicity," he corrected. Felicity turned her back to them and rested her palms on the exam table, sucking in a heavy breath. Several moments passed in silence until the clicking of Caitlyn's heels retreated from the room. Whatever unspoken conversation shared between them having decided that Barry would now speak to Felicity alone. She braced herself for the coming lecture. He rounded the exam table to stand opposite her, but she refused to look up.

"Look, I'm sorry, ok?" Felicity began when could take the silence no more, meeting Barry's eyes. "I understand what everyone did to help find me, and appreciate what you must've went through…"

"I don't think you do. Understand, I mean," Barry stated, surprising her. She bit her lip and waited for him to continue. He looked away for a second, as if deciding whether or not to go on.

"When you were gone, I'd never seen Oliver so… so lost before. Don't get me wrong, we were all desperate to get you back. But Oliver," Barry paused and Felicity took a deep breath, unsure if she wanted him to continue now or not. "Let's just say we all knew that his survival depended on finding you alive."

Felicity blinked away tears once more, focusing on the wall beside her as a few managed to spill over anyway. "I can't remember him," she whispered. "I can't remember anyone. And until I can, I'm not back. Not really."

Barry shook his head, the frown on his mouth deepening. "Felicity, that's so not true."

"It is true, Barry! Everyone keeps looking at me like they're waiting for someone else to magically appear! And what if that someone never comes back? What if she is gone forever? What then?!" The tears were falling freely now; she didn't bother wiping them away.

"You're still you!" he shot back, his voice angrier than Felicity had ever heard. Which was probably because of his attempt to match her tone, Felicity was ashamed to realize. "Even without your memories, you are the same girl we all know and love. You're here, Felicity. You're alive and well. That's all that matters to anyone, especially Oliver."

She wanted to argue further, to point out that without her memories she wasn't really "well" because she wasn't whole, and consequently of no interest to Oliver. But she was too ashamed to say this out loud, too unwilling to defend her hypothesis with the fumbled moment in the alley as evidence. Even now, locked away in her own mind as it was, the memory caused her cheeks to flush in embarrassment.

"If you never get your memories back, it won't change your worth to your team and friends. It won't change how Oliver feels."

Felicity closed her eyes, blocking her view of the sympathetic expression on Barry's face and shielding her traitorous emotions from him. She wished nothing more than to be able to believe his words.

"I can't stick around waiting for something to happen that might not," she eventually told him, steeling her face when she looked at him again. "And I can't handle the disappointment on their faces anymore."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Distance myself. For a while, at least. That's what sabbaticals are for right? To go find yourself?" She added the last part with a cheeky smile, but Barry wasn't amused. He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture that she recognized from their few encounters.

"You know I have to tell Oliver you were here, right?" His face revealed how much he was not looking forward to that conversation. Felicity was nodding as she walked past him into the other room where Caitlyn was sitting in front of the bank of computers.

"I know. Even though it's completely unnecessary since he already knows where I am," Felicity answered, retrieving her car keys from the counter top. She smiled, genuinely this time, toward Caitlyn as the tall brunette stood and enveloped Felicity in a tight hug. "Thank you for all your help," Felicity said, locking eyes with Barry over her shoulder. "Both of you. Your friendship means a lot."

"You're welcome here anytime," Caitlyn replied as she released her. Felicity noted the moisture in the doctor's eyes, guessing Caitlyn must have heard at least some of her and Barry's conversation, and concluding that this might be the last time they saw each other for a while.

Felicity squeezed her hand once before turning toward the door, waving at Barry from the hall. He nodded, keeping his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. She made it to the end of the long, winding corridor when she heard Barry call her name. She turned, waiting for him to jog – at a normal, non-speedster pace – over to her side.

Barry looked down at her face, shifting nervously again. "You know that finding yourself and regaining your memories aren't mutually exclusive, right? If those are truly your ultimate goals, just remember that they're two separate things. Ok?"

Felicity considered that for a moment, nodding absently in reply. She decided to table that particular theory for later mental deliberation. For now, she'd focus only the open road waiting for her outside, and putting as much distance as possible between she and anyone who knew the old Felicity Smoak – the girl who was gone, but not forgotten, by everyone else except Felicity.

That Felicity Smoak was forefront on her mind as she made her way across the sunny parking lot toward her car, wondering if it were possible to miss someone she couldn't even remember.


Two Months Later

"Everything's fine, John. We literally just walked in the door!" Donna's voice carried through the walls of the small apartment and into Felicity's "room" (Donna's overflow closet), as she cheerily answered Digg's questions. Felicity paused briefly, angling her ear toward the cracked open door when Donna's voice dropped an octave. "Give her a chance to unpack and get settled, ok? We've barely had the chance to put our bags on the floor."

Donna wasn't exaggerating this time; Felicity heaved her carry-on suitcase onto the futon couch, the luggage having gained at least ten pounds since first packing its contents. Her mother had taken one look at her unpacked items upon arriving to their Florida hotel room - all of which fit neatly into one drawer - and insisted on going shopping immediately.

"We're in Orlando, Felicity!" she exclaimed when Felicity objected. "You can't possibly intend on going to the beach without the proper bikini."

"Mom, you do know Orlando is land-locked, right?"

"As if that matters!"

That had been the first of many shopping excursions in their two week stay in Florida, which eventually did include a road trip to the beach as well as every park of Disney World and Universal Studios - all courtesy of Ray Palmer's exuberant generosity.

When Felicity first learned of Ray's part in the impromptu vacation, she almost nixed the entire trip before it began. But Donna had expertly guilted Felicity into setting aside her pride, explaining that it was Donna's one chance at having the mother/daughter vacation she'd never been able to afford.

"She's great, John. I swear. This trip was exactly what we both needed."

Felicity quietly closed the door, drowning out her mother's lengthy description of everything they'd seen in Florida by selecting her favorite Spotify station. Donna's conversations with Digg, and with Ray too when he called, were never short, no matter how busy the bubbly blonde claimed to be. It was a true testament to Digg's character that he continued calling twice, sometimes three times a week, never letting on to the fact that he hadn't the time to listen.

Especially now, Felicity assumed, as his time was largely taken up these days by their continued extracurricular activities. pulling more weight than usual in the IT department. He'd never say as much, of course, but that didn't stop Felicity from feeling guilty almost every second of every day. Knowing the risks they were all taking as she strolled around Magic Kingdom or rode Space Mountain until getting sick, made her feel despicable.

It was both the guilt and the motion sickness that had Felicity opting out of most of the rides before the end of day three. In the days that followed, she would wait outside the attractions while Donna carried on unbothered. The times waiting for Donna to rejoin her – the minutes not spent with her ever present delightful chatter – were the chances for Felicity to really feel the heaviness of her guilt. Watching the mouse-eared children bounce across the park grounds with their amused parents in tow, having no notion of the darkness that existed so near, made Felicity truly appreciate the importance of what her friends did in Starling each night.

She often wondered if they resented her chosen absence as much as she blamed herself for it. Or worse, if her absence was even felt at all.

In the other room, Donna continued chatting animatedly on the phone. Felicity was grateful for it however, for her mother's long-windedness usually ensured that little time was left for Felicity to have to make conversation. Whether Donna did so intentionally or not, Felicity wasn't sure. But talking with Digg, no matter how patient or understanding he was, never failed to exhaust Felicity.

Because as much as she wished she could, she still was unable to offer that which she knew he really sought though never asked - an answer to the question Oliver would first ask of him as soon as he disconnected the call. She hadn't remembered anything else since her departure. It didn't bother her as much as it once did, however. Not being there to see the disappointment on their faces certainly helped in that respect.

What Digg didn't know, nor her mother or anyone else, was that she'd often lie awake for hours staring up at the popcorn ceiling, feeling like her memory was hanging in the air above her, close enough that she felt it was just beyond reach… frustratingly unattainable.

On one such night almost three weeks earlier, she eventually reached for her phone in thoughtless desperation and hit the speed-dial, noticing a second too late that it was close to 4:00AM. Before she could reconsider or overthink the ramifications of such a call, Oliver answered on the first ring. His voice was husky, deepened with sleep, but otherwise alert.

"Felicity." He breathed her name into the phone, sounding more like a whispered prayer than a greeting, saying nothing further. She had assumed he would immediately start asking questions – if she was okay, where she was, why she was calling at that time of night – instead he silently waited, unaware of how her name on his lips affected her, even over the phone.

"I'm sorry I woke you," she finally whispered.

"I'm not," he replied. She heard movement through the line and imagined him sitting up in bed to switch on the light. She smiled into the phone.

"How are you?" he asked.

"That's a loaded question," she answered. "But mostly good. How about you?"

"Mostly good, too."

"Glad to hear it."

A comfortable silence fell over them with neither in a hurry to fill it. She wasn't sure what exactly had compelled her to call, aside from simply wanting to hear his voice.

"I'm happy you called," he said as if reading her thoughts. "I've missed you, Felicity."

She smiled again, though this time it was layered with sadness and regret. "I'm sorry I haven't checked in more. Though, I think that maybe we both needed some time."

She hadn't said she missed him too, but hoped that he could hear what she wouldn't say.

"Take all the time you need. As long as I know you're happy, that's enough for me."

The subject of what she needed versus what she wanted in terms of her happiness wasn't something she was willing to broach at that hour, so she quickly diverted by saying the first thing that came to mind. "Tell me something I don't know about you."

Oliver chuckled, though it wasn't out of amusement. "That's a loaded request."

"Is it?"

"Even before, you never really knew everything."

"I thought you said I knew you better than anyone," she pressed, switching the phone to the other ear as she snuggled further into her sheets.

"You did. You do," he amended. "Doesn't mean I told you everything about my past. Or what made me who I am today."

"How come?"

Oliver was silent for a full minute before answering. "Because I am a selfish man."

Felicity's throat tightened upon hearing the deep remorse in his voice and wished she was there beside him, though she didn't know what comfort she could provide. She longed to reach out and touch him, a gentle hand on his arm or shoulder, in the same manner and gesture he'd so often extended to her.

"Pretty sure you've already proven that to be false. But explain. Please."

He sighed heavily into the speaker; she could easily picture him lean his head back, clenching his jaw as he stared at the ceiling. "I liked the way you looked at me," he began. "It was... nice. It made me feel... like I was someone worthy of your trust, of your faith. When you looked at me like that, for a second I could almost believe it. For one brief second, I could almost believe I as redeemable."

He paused again for several moments, and Felicity held her breath until he continued. "But if you really knew everything about me - everything I had done in order to survive, everything I had become and, for the most part, still am - it would've changed how you saw me. I was scared; I wasn't ready to lose the faith you had in me... I wasn't ready to lose you."

Felicity swallowed the lump in her throat and turned onto her back. "Granted I don't know much about the person I was, but I feel like she wouldn't have scared that easily."

Oliver laughed – a quick, muted huff of air, but a laugh all the same. Felicity liked the sound.

"You are absolutely right about that," he agreed; Felicity could hear the smile in the words.

"So tell me something. Anything," she urged again. "It doesn't have to be anything you wouldn't have told the old me. Well not the old me, the me before that was only slightly younger than the me now."

"All right," he began, smiling still. From his tone, Felicity guessed he had already decided on what he was going to tell her. "When you and I first met, you naturally lapsed into one of those endearing verbal spirals that you can sometimes get lost in. And as I waited, my confusion turned amazed, and then finally amused. It was the first time after my return home that the mask I wore fell away. You just made me smile. It was that simple."

"Really." The doubt was undercurrent in her tone.

"Really," he repeated. "There was just something about you. You were just so bright and open and… good."

He sounded at peace as he described his first impressions, a peace that translated through the line and washed over her as well.

"You're good too, Oliver," she told him. "I may not know much, but I do know that."

"You believed that when no one else did," he replied. "You held me to a higher standard. It was one of the very few constants in my life."

"Well for what it's worth, that hasn't changed." She stifled a yawn, feeling tired for the first time that night/morning.

"It's worth more than you'll ever know, Felicity," he whispered. "Think you can go to sleep now?" It seemed he'd heard her yawn anyway.

"I think so. Oliver?"

"Yeah?"

"Would it be all right if I called again sometime?"

"Any time. I'll be here," he promised, igniting a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. "Good night, Felicity."

"Good morning, Oliver."

And indeed she had called again after that night. They'd carried on dozens of similar conversations since then, most of them in the dark hours of early morning, but some during the light of day as well. Whenever a question would spark her curiosity or something else hovered at the edge of her awareness, she would pick up the phone and call.

Understandably, Oliver wasn't always able to answer on the first ring or even at all, but he never failed to call back as soon as he was able. Though the wait was agonizing for Felicity as she worried over his safety, she never asked for any details about Arrow business, limiting her questions to personal inquiries regarding Digg and Roy.

Due to her sudden vacation and its requirement of a shared room with Donna, Felicity hadn't been able to call as often as she would've liked. On their second day in Florida, Felicity and Donna returned to their hotel room to find a small velvet box wrapped with a single gold ribbon; a single white card was attached, her name elegantly scrawled across it. Curious, Donna had hurriedly opened the gift as Felicity read the inside of the card.

Thought you might need these. I hear the sand of Orlando beaches can be particularly brutal. – OQ

Donna held out the two-toned rimmed glasses, a tender look behind her large blue eyes. "These look familiar," she commented. Felicity took them from her, examining the frames with her own strange welling of emotion.

"They do, don't they?" Felicity agreed, glancing down to read the note once more. She rolled her eyes at his words, and the gesture itself, though she couldn't help the goofy grin on her face. That night she'd taken out her contact lenses to wash her face and reached for the glasses afterward. She hadn't worn the contacts since.

"So I got your gift," she told Oliver the following day when Donna headed out to the pool.

"Not really a gift if it already belongs to you," he replied over the sound of the Ducati's engine. "They've been here in the foundry for a while and I thought you might need them sooner or later. You used to always complain about contacts."

"Want to hear something funny?" Felicity asked.

"Always," he deadpanned. She rolled her eyes and continued. "It took me two weeks to realize I needed corrective lenses back at the compound. I assumed the blurred vision and headaches were a lingering side effect of the alleged concussion from my terrible accident."

There was a beat longer than normal pause before Oliver answered. "Hilarious," he said, sounding not the slightest bit amused. Felicity realized then that they hadn't spoken very much about her time on Battleship Island, the subject seeming to put Oliver on edge now.

"Guess that should've been my first clue that I hadn't always been as close to Alan as he let on."

The motorcycle engine suddenly cut off, Oliver having apparently pulled over. "It's not your fault you didn't catch on. You had no reason or memory to doubt him."

"I know," she replied. The wounds she'd taken with her from the island, from her time spent with her father, were still painful, but she no longer tried to suppress the memories. Though it felt more like a terrible dream, it had all actually happened. She had been manipulated into believing that her father loved her, only to discover the man Alan Smoak truly was. And then she'd left him behind to die. Felicity knew that she would struggle over that decision for the rest of her life - the guilt and the relief forever at odds - but she was learning day by day how to live with her demons. For now, that was enough.

"I just feel like I should've at least suspected. I mean, I used to read up on the Star City vigilante when Alan wasn't around. Should've guess or at least wondered why I was so drawn to you…

"To the vigilante, I mean," she corrected quickly.

"Your subconscious was trying to answer what your brain had yet to ask," he reasoned.

"Anyway," she misdirected. "What's on your agenda for today?"

"I've got lunch with Walter. That's where I'm headed now. He's going to offer me a job, I think. He's worried about my being too idle." He huffed.

"Your stepfather?"

"That's right."

"And I knew him. Before?"

"Yeah, you did." Oliver paused for a second. "Do you remember that?"

"I don't think so, but maybe. I don't know."

"That's all right, Felicity," he assured when she drew in a frustrated breath. "He's been asking about you. He's always liked you."

"Really?"

The Ducati roared to life again and Oliver raised his voice to respond. "I'll tell you more if you want me to, but I think you'd like to work that one out for yourself."

He was right, she did want to figure that particular puzzle out on her own, though she had no idea why.

"I don't like puzzles. They need to be solved," she mumbled, feeling that eerie sensation tugging at the back of her mind again.

"That's why you're so good at them."

And that was why Walter Steele had been occupying her thoughts ever since. Her spare time was spent pouring over internet articles and financial statements for Oliver's former stepfather, who'd been a longtime friend and business partner to Robert Queen. Felicity learned everything there was to know about the successful Brit, but came no closer to discovering her personal connection to him. It was there though, of that much she was certain. And for some reason she'd come to the conclusion that solving this mystery would help fill in the other glaring holes of her memory.

She opened her suitcase and found her tablet, turning it on to reveal the bookmarked pages and notes she had been keeping on Steele. The answers would not be found amongst the vague business profiles however; she knew that they all lay buried in her own subconscious, waiting for that one lightning bolt burst of clarity that would awaken all of those dormant memories.

At some point in the afternoon Felicity must have drifted off to sleep as she read over the notes on Walter. She suspected this because she was only 98% sure that she was dreaming, finding herself in a dimly lit office suite surrounded by computer screens. Which was not so unusual in of itself, but the large and very alive Panda bear lounging at her feet was pretty suspect.

The large, ridiculously cute animal didn't unnerve her however, for Felicity was too focused on the small notebook on her desk top, lying open to reveal hundreds of blank pages that she leafed through one by one. A gentle knock on the open glass door had her looking up to see Walter Steele entering the room.

Felicity waited as he took the seat in front of her. All of the questions she knew she should be asking him vanished under his scrutiny; she closed the notebook with a sigh. "There's nothing here," she told him.

"I know," he replied, his thick British accent coloring his indifferent tone.

"You don't understand. It's all blank. There aren't any answers here; no clues to be found."

"I have the utmost confidence in your abilities, Ms. Smoak. That's why I sent him to you. I know you can solve this."

"But the pages are blank, Mr. Steele," she argued.

"Look harder," he urged, leaning forward to open the book again. He waited until she picked it up once more, her thumb flipping through the pages and fanning her face. As she did so, words began to appear on each page. Stunned, she paused on one page to read over the list of names handwritten there. Then one by one the names were crossed off with a single line by an invisible force.

Felicity glanced back up, excited and astonished, but found that Walter had vanished. She was now face to face with none other than Oliver Queen. The scene had changed, the office replaced with the interior of Big Belly Burger where Oliver sat at the front windows, turning away from the steady drizzle of rain to flash a cocky grin her way.

"Can I trust you?" she asked him, gripping the book tighter in her palms.

"Yes, Felicity. You can trust me."

Felicity woke with a start, sitting straight up on the futon and sending the tablet falling to the floor. The sun was setting outside and she shook her groggy head. A small smile formed on her lips as the details of the dream came flooding back to her.

Walter. The notebook. The names. Walter's abduction. Oliver.

It all began falling into place, one by one like pieces of a gigantic puzzle.

"Everything about you just became unbelievably clear," she'd told him as lie bleeding in the backseat of her car.

"MOM!" Felicity yelled, bounding to her feet. "I remember!"


Felicity hadn't told anyone she was coming, and had made her mother swear to not breathe a word. It was just before midnight when she pulled into the lot behind Verdant. She'd spent all of the night before and most of that morning retelling what she remembered to Donna, and could barely contain her bubbling excitement as more and more details began unraveling.

She couldn't wait to tell the others, to tell him, but there was something she had to do first. Donna's regular stylist had squeezed Felicity in on short notice, and she'd left the salon feeling more like herself than she had in ages.

Racing through the back entry to walk into the basement, she was greeted by the familiar smells of the foundry and the humming sounds of equipment. Diggle was poised against her desk, arms folded as a broad smile appeared on his face. She walked right into his embrace when he opened his arms, pressing her face into his chest as he gently cupped the back of her head.

"Love the hair," he commented.

"Thanks."

"You look like you," he added, a smile in his voice. She squeezed him tighter.

"I feel like me," she replied. Digg stepped back to look in her eyes, holding on to the tops of her arms as he searched her face.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." She beamed up at him, and he wrapped his arms around her again, this time hauling her off of the floor entirely. "I missed you too, Digg."

He sat her back down with a laugh. "I've got to call Oliver!"

Felicity stopped him with a hand on his bicep and took the seat in front of her computers. Her seat. "What's the mission tonight?" she asked, putting in the ear piece he offered and going to work on the keyboard as Digg filled her in.

She was home.

The night had been pretty standard as far as Team Arrow was used to. Felicity's technical expertise was needed very little, and for that she'd let Diggle relay her instructions to the others. When Oliver finally called it a night and told Roy to head back to the foundry, Felicity's stomach was a mess of nerves. Digg muted the com link and leaned back in his chair to regard her fully.

"So you remembered something?"

"Everything, I think," she answered, swiveling in her chair to face him. "Most of my origin story on Team Arrow at least." And all of her feelings for Oliver, which she didn't bother saying. Because along with those feelings, she remembered Oliver's resolve that they could never be together like that. Digg must've guessed where her thoughts had taken her because he leaned forward in his seat and fixed his loaded gaze on her.

"Hey. It's going to work out."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you spent your time waiting on him and now he's done his part waiting on you. You idiots have run out of excuses."

Felicity laughed, hoping he was right this time. But then she realized something profound. Being with Oliver wasn't the end game for her; wasn't the point she'd been fighting so hard to reach. Though it would definitely be an added bonus, her goal had been to remember everything that helped make her into the person she was today. The good and the bad, the terrible and the wonderful. She was back where she belonged, where she was needed, and that was all that mattered.

She smiled at Digg, spinning full circle in her chair. "Either way, I'm good."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely. I'm back." Felicity shrugged her shoulders, the relief felt in those small words affecting her mentally, physically, and emotionally. As such, she smiled in pure contentment.

The beep of the overhead door's alarm alerted their attention to someone's approach. Felicity and Digg both turned to watch Roy descending the stairs with Oliver at his heels.

"I'm just saying that the guy had it coming anyway," Roy was saying. "It's not like he'll prosper in prison."

"We aren't judge and jury here, Roy," Oliver replied, his tone impatient as if it were a conversation they'd held on more than one occasion.

"Well we could be. Laurel shouldn't get to have the fun and the glory." Roy halted at the base of the steps, mouth falling open once spotting Felicity. Oliver stepped around him, casting Roy an annoyed look until following his gaze toward her. Felicity unclasped her grip on the chair arms to raise them palms up beside her. "Surprise!" she squeaked.

"Blondie!" Roy shouted, grinning from ear to ear as he crossed the remaining distance. "You're back?"

"So it would seem," she replied, spinning in her chair once more.

"I mean, you're back back? Like for good?"

"I'm back back," she affirmed. "If you'll have me, that is." She cast her eyes quickly over to Oliver, whom had yet to move an inch. His expression was frozen in that frustrating yet ridiculously attractive and unreadable expression.

"Thank God!" Roy exclaimed. "No offense, Digg."

"None taken," Digg said beside her.

Felicity stood to hug Roy, resolutely avoiding Oliver's gaze by squeezing her eyes shut. Roy tugged her blonde ponytail, which was barely long enough to tie back, and stepped out of her embrace to look her up and down. "Florida agrees with you, Barbie. Your freckles are showing again."

"I think I've had enough D to last me a while," she replied, immediately wincing when Roy's eyebrows shot up. "Vitamin D. As in sunshine. That's the only D I've had in a long time. Which none of you needed to know. Shutting up now."

Roy and Digg laughed, the sound echoing in the foundry. "Man, I've missed your dirty mind," Roy managed to remark in between breaths.

"Shut up," Felicity told him, smiling despite her humiliation.

"So how was Disney?" Roy asked. "Was it magical? Digg showed me some of the pictures Donna sent him. Those light up mouse ears really worked for you."

Felicity was shaking her head, her cheeks warming as she opened her mouth to curse her mother's newly developed texting habits, but Digg stepped in before she could speak and laid a hand on Roy's shoulder.

"We can hear all about that later, kid," he told Roy, flashing him a pointed look when the younger man started to object. Roy caught on quickly, nodding. "Right," he said, grinning suggestively when Felicity ducked her chin in embarrassment. She was a bundle of nervous tension, the butterflies in her stomach robbing her of any witty retorts, or oxygen for that matter.

"It's good to have you back, Felicity," Roy told her, turning serious as he reached out and squeezed her arm.

"Thanks, Roy. It's good to be back." Roy retrieved his duffle bag and headed toward the door. Digg hugged Felicity and followed Roy, stopping to relay an unspoken message to Oliver as he passed, to which Oliver nodded once without taking his eyes from Felicity.

She waited until the door clicked shut behind them before breaking the heavy silence. "Hey."

Oliver tilted his head to the side as if analyzing her single word greeting. "Hey yourself." His voice was husky, his tone devoid of emotion. Felicity swallowed the nervousness rising in her throat.

"Quiet night?" she asked, for want of something – anything – to talk about.

"I haven't heard from you in four days" was his response. She instantly bristled, crossing her arms at the sound of his almost reprimanding tone.

"I've been sort of busy."

"Yeah?" Oliver took a measured step into the room, transferring his bow to the other hand.

"Yeah. Donna says hello, by the way. She mentioned wanting to do brunch soon. Bacon, I assume."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "I'd like that."

"I think she has a crush on you," Felicity told him, her tone still annoyed. Oliver crossed the space to set his bow on the table between them.

"I doubt that."

"How come?"

"Because she knows how I feel about you," he stated matter-of-factly. Felicity blanched, taken off guard by his bluntness.

"Oh." She mentally kicked herself for her lack of tact. Oliver began removing his quiver and jacket, placing them beside his bow. "I had a dream about your stepdad," Felicity blurted. Oliver's movements stilled, quirking an eyebrow toward her. "Not like a dirty dream," she rushed to clarify with a nervous laugh. "Totally clean and not-weird. Well I guess not totally unweird; there was a rather large panda bear in it. On my feet, specifically, but not as heavy as one would imagine. That's not really-"

"Felicity," he interrupted with that patient tone of his, helping her back on track.

"Right. Walter," she said, unnecessarily straightening her glasses to help regain focus. "He was in my office, in the dream. He had brought me a book. A notebook full of blank pages, names written in invisible ink."

She paused to let that sink in; Oliver's face froze in another unreadable expression as he waited for her to continue. "That was the reason he was abducted," she continued in a hushed voice. "Why I eventually approached you about the notebook, because I'd guessed you were more than a generically charming playboy. And that's how we met, how this," she gestured around them. "All started. For me, at least. Because that day I made the decision to trust you."

Oliver's face softened as she spoke and he placed his hand on the table top, rapping his knuckles on the surface and gliding his fingers across it as he rounded the corner to stand in front of her. "That's not how we met," he informed her, though his face and eyes were the picture of relief, satisfied and content.

Felicity looked up to meet his gaze, narrowing her eyebrows. "It's not?"

"Nope," he affirmed, eyes smiling first until the slight upturn of his mouth completed the look. It was a good look on him, she mentally noted as his lips momentarily stole her attention. "We actually met a few weeks earlier, when I needed help with my laptop. When Walter had given me a name of the perfect person to help.

"Felicity Smoak," he said the name with reverence, drawing out its syllables in a way that only Oliver could manage. Felicity forgot to breathe; Oliver's smile turned into a smirk and he dropped his eyes, shaking his head as the memory of their first encounter seemed to amuse him all over again.

Felicity searched his face, her own smile forming as the meeting in question started formulating in her mind's eye. She tilted her head to the side, pursing her lips.

"I hope you've since found a safer coffee shop Mr. Queen, because you truly are a walking, talking Shakespearean trope."

The words had barely escaped her lips when they were crushed by Oliver's mouth. The kiss was filled with longing, yet tender and discovering at the same time, unlike the heated desperation of their last kiss. The passion was still very present though, warming her from the inside out. When he cupped the sides of her face, Felicity parted her lips to deepen the kiss and pressed herself closer to him.

Oliver broke away suddenly and stared into her slightly unfocused eyes; his pupils were completely shot as he searched hers, seeing beyond, seeing into the very depths of her soul. Felicity melted under his gaze, fingers tightening on their hold of his wrists.

"I love you, Felicity Smoak. Do you understand?"

His expression was almost pained, so filled with emotion that it seemed to overwhelm his normal, practiced control. She nodded through her tears, feeling his words course through her entire being. "No fake outs. No take backs. No ifs, ands, or maybes. Just now and forever," he continued, his words spilling out in quick succession. "I want it all, Felicity. I want it all with you-"

"Oliver."

Once she cut his words off, he pressed his lips in a taught line as if to block any more from spilling out. "Hmm?"

"I love you too. Now will you stop babbling and kiss me," she demanded.

Oliver grinned almost wickedly, the Queen charm appearing as his lips hovered over hers. "3, 2, 1…" he murmured, mimicking her own exercise and somehow making it sound a lot sexier, before graciously complying to her command.

The End.