Felicity sat up in bed, her heart pounding. She was sleeping in her own room for the first time in two days, Oliver having fully recovered from his ordeal, but it seemed the change of setting didn't matter overmuch to her subconscious. She'd still been visited by that dream of the faceless mage. She sighed, knowing that sleep would likely not find her again for the rest of the night. Getting up from her bed, she lit a candle, trying not to think about what had happened the last time she had gotten up in the middle of the night like this, and left her room behind, thinking that perhaps wandering the Foundry for a little while might calm her mind and body enough to make trying to get back to sleep an actual viable plan, if a vague one, rather than an impossibility.

Wandering into the kitchen, Felicity was surprised to find a fire burning in the hearth and Oliver seated at the table.

"Oliver," she said to get his attention, because, lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed her yet. She set her candle down on the table, its light seeming small and weak in comparison to that of the fire. The dull thunk of the metal candle holder impacting the wood of the table made Oliver stir at last, slowly, as if coming out of a dream.

"Felicity," he said softly. There was an odd sort of sleepy, half-awake tone in his voice. He studied her face for a moment and asked "Couldn't sleep?" Felicity shook her head.

"No," she confirmed. "You?"

"I told you that sleep and I are often not on the friendliest of terms," Oliver said by way of reply. Felicity nodded to herself. She remembered Oliver telling her that. It was difficult not to remember when it had only happened two days ago.

"Nightmares?" she asked. Oliver nodded in answer.

"You?" he asked.

"The same," Felicity said. "Or actually, nightmare singular. I've had the same one every night since you were attacked."

"Dare I ask what it is?" Oliver asked. Felicity shook her head.

"I'd really rather not talk about it," she said.

"Fair enough," Oliver conceded. I won't pry." He paused, then said, "And... I thank you for extending me the same courtesy."

"Of course," Felicity said, inclining her head. "One good turn deserves another, after all."

"It's more than that," Oliver said, shaking his head. "I can see that you...care, about me, and about the team, and I appreciate it. I must admit that I sometimes feel I don't deserve it."

"That's ridiculous," Felicity said emphatically. "There isn't a single person on this earth undeserving of care, least of all you. Even the lowliest of scum have people in their lives who care about them, and clearly you are a much higher class of person than they."

"Sometimes I'm not so sure that's true," Oliver mumbled.

"Why?" Felicity asked, genuinely wanting to understand his thought process. If she understood it, perhaps she could help him change it.

"This life, it...does things to a person, Felicity," Oliver replied in a whisper. He sounded almost fearful, as if speaking of such things might manifest them into existence. "Makes them live in a morally grey area for so long that eventually they start to lose all sense of right and wrong. They become willing to do terrible things in the name of fighting the good fight. I personally have done things that, if you knew about them, you wouldn't think that I'm a hero. I have killed, and I have tortured, and I have hurt. I have caused unspeakable pain in the name of doing good."

"Exactly," Felicity said. "In the name of doing good. You were trying to do the right thing. And maybe the methods by which you did that were not what some people would consider good, but that doesn't make you a bad person. If you were, you wouldn't even feel the way you do about the things you've done. Bad people aren't capable of remorse."

"That's...heartening, I suppose," Oliver said. "It's a difficult thing to remember, though."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't try," Felicity pointed out. "For my sake, if not your own. I worry about you, Oliver. Especially lately."

"You don't need to," Oliver said. "I can take care of myself. And I highly doubt I'm likely to get attacked by a rogue mage more than once."

"You can't know that," Felicity said, fear choking her to such an extent that her voice came out in merely the barest hiss of a whisper. "We can't know that. We don't know what's out there."

"You're right," Oliver said. "I apologize. It was callous of me to dismiss your worry like that."

"You don't have to apologize to me," Felicity replied, shaking her head. For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the fire.

"I'm going to try and see if I can manage to get any more sleep tonight," Felicity said, rising from her seat and taking up her candle. She retreated to her room without another word.

"Felicity!" She heard her name being called only distantly, still in the throes of her dream, unaware of how much time had passed since she'd left the kitchen. Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her against a muscular chest. Felicity screamed and thrashed, trying to push away from her perceived attacker.

"It's alright, it's just me." Oliver's voice. She whimpered.

"Ssh," Oliver soothed. "It's alright. You're safe. I'm here." Fear fled Felicity in an instant, leaving her feeling empty and gutted. She collapsed against Oliver's chest, sobs clawing their way out of her. Her hands traced over his scars, needing to confirm that he was really there, really alive, really safe.

"It's alright," Oliver murmured, rocking her gently back and forth. "We're okay. It was just a dream." He continued like that, holding her, rocking her, murmuring reassurances, until at last she calmed. If she hadn't still been mostly out of it, she would have been embarrassed by how close together they were.

Felicity pulled away from Oliver to wipe away the tears streaking her face, and he studied her intently, his brilliant blue eyes shadowed with concern.

"What happened?" she asked before he could.

"I was on my way back from the kitchen," Oliver said, voice low, as if he were afraid he might frighten her if he spoke too loudly, "and I heard you crying out in your sleep as I passed by your room. You sounded like you needed help, and I was right there-" He cut himself off with a shrug.

"Thank you," Felicity whispered. Oliver averted his eyes from hers, as if uncomfortable or embarrassed.

"I need you to tell me what your nightmare is about," he said.

"Oliver, please don't," Felicity began.

"Please," Oliver begged. "I hate to ask you to relive it, but I- I need to understand. Please." The look of desperate concern in his eyes made it impossible for Felicity to deny him.

"Alright," she said. "In my nightmare...there's a mage, with his face in shadow so I can't make it out. And he breaks in here, smashes right through the wards I put up, and tortures you right in front of me. And eventually, he-he kills you, and there's nothing I can do to stop him. All I can do is stand there and watch you die." She shuddered.

"It was just a dream," Oliver reassured her. "I'm right here." He took her hand and placed it flat against his chest, over his heart. The steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her palm chased the last lingering shreds of her dream away.

"Thank you," she said, offering him a thin smile. He nodded and started to ease himself off of her bed.

"Oliver, wait," Felicity said, grabbing his wrist and stopping him in his tracks. When he looked over his shoulder at her, a question written on his face, she asked "Will you stay with me? Just for tonight?" Oliver nodded.

"Of course," he said softly. "Whatever you need."