Chapter 26

When Ed Jacobson was caught and put behind doors in a psych ward, Felicity sighed in relief. Her stalker who had endangered her life was behind locked doors and Oliver's secret was safe. Nobody would take the word of someone institutionalized for a mental disorder over hers. It was one less thing to think about.

She had first thought of going to Oliver instead of going to the cops when Ed Jacobson attacked her in her house. Her primary instinct should have been driving to the police station, instead she had run into Oliver's arms. Even days later, she wasn't still exactly sure what had prompted such an action, but she liked to think that it was because Ed knew about Oliver and Felicity didn't want to explain that to the cops. Oliver's secret coming out had been more important than her own security. She didn't regret it because she had felt safer with Oliver than she would have been in a building full of policemen. And now Ed was locked up in a psychiatric ward, away from her. His secret was safe. She was safe. That was behind her now.

New in her life were the visits to the police station. Detective Lance had prioritized the apprehension of Ed Jacobson after she had offered help to interrogate some of the more difficult suspects who opted for eloquent, thought provoking questions that came from her rather than the usual means that were described to her as brute. Given their limited resources and their devotion of time and effort to catch the Arrow, she had been grateful to the Starling City Police Department for catching Ed in such a short time. She also found her time at the police station, interrogation would-be criminals interesting. Her relationship with SCPD was fruitful and kept her busy.

Maybe for the first time in her life, she was grateful for being busy because focusing on her job, her patients and SCPD the entire time left her with little time to think about Oliver. She would wake up with him on her mind then forget about him throughout the day with daily errands and sessions following one another. Ever since she had rushed into his arms in an attempt to feel safe, she had noticed a change in her feelings towards him. He had been a patient, was a good friend and now he was something more.

She wasn't exactly sure how to catalog her feelings. She was pragmatic. She didn't have any delusions as to think he would be willing to see her as something more than a friend. Yet, whenever the image of his face lighting up when she simply placed a peck on his cheek, it made her think that maybe whatever she was feeling towards him was mutual.

She hadn't meant to kiss him. It wasn't really a kiss in the first place. It wasn't the first time, too, yes, but the first time he had almost died before her own eyes and she had been worried. Back then a friendly peck on his cheek, feeling his stubble against her lips had somewhat been an impulsive necessity just to convince herself that he was okay.

The second time though… her ability to decipher her reasoning failed her. She couldn't figure out why she had done it. She had been attacked, her emotions were in turmoil. They had spent the night together like two normal people would. He had made her feel safe, made her laugh and then made her cheeks flush when he had stepped out of her bathroom in nothing but a towel and a blanket. So after a silent car ride, when he was about to get out of her car, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. It was meant to be a friendly thing. It wasn't.

Her relationship with Oliver Queen had begun professionally but given his lies and her inability to give him the true help he needed, they had stopped that. Then they had become friends. Through Big Bell Burger lunches and breakfast food in her favorite diners throughout the city, she had learned more about Oliver than she could have during their sessions. He still kept things to himself most of the time, but he wasn't pushing her away. She trusted him and she had shared things with him that she kept to herself, too.

One thing she had observed about Oliver was the fact that trust didn't come easy with him. She couldn't blame him though. Even though she didn't know the full story about his five years, she had seen his scars. Those had been inflicted on him by other people. He had every right not to trust anybody. Yet she could feel that he trusted her. It had started even before they became friends, when he had saved her life then revealed himself. She didn't take that for granted.

She trusted Oliver more than she trusted herself. She didn't trust her own feelings. It was unprofessional of her to harbor feelings for someone who had been a patient. Regardless of their beginnings, he still led a dangerous life and she truly believed that the city needed him to save itself. She didn't want to keep him from his mission. She had changed his mind about his methods, but she didn't want to change him. She didn't want to trap the hero of the city into a relationship.

She wasn't ready for a relationship herself. She hadn't had one in years. All the men who had entered her life left her one way or another. Her brother had left her before she was even born, her father when she was only four, a child. Her first serious boyfriend had committed suicide less than a year into their relationship because of family issues, the one boy in medical school she thought she'd marry one day had cheated on her when he had gone himself on the summer vacation to Europe they were supposed to go together. She hadn't had a serious relationship in the last few years, using the excuse of her job. She was always opting for casual flings. She didn't feel like she was ready to commit.

She didn't want to think about Oliver Queen beyond the limits of the friendship they had built. He was very good-looking, something the entire city agreed on. Something she couldn't deny. She knew the real Oliver Queen and it made him even more attractive. Others didn't know how courageous and selfless he was. He was stubborn, something she hated most of the time. He didn't think things through and chose to follow his impulses most of the time rather than his instincts and never admitted to being wrong. Starting with the first lie he had told straight to her face, often he made her want to shout at him, shouting that he was wrong, that he needed to let people in, that he needed to be more trusting, that he needed to let go of his blindsides. He wasn't ready for a relationship himself, either.

She knew better than to fall for him. She was a professional, she liked to think that she was attractive and successful. Sure she had her shortcomings as a psychiatrist, given how she had been unable to help Oliver the way she was supposed to, but that didn't mean she wasn't open to learning.

She hated whatever she felt for him. She felt like she was back in middle school, reliving her first crush, obsessing over every word he told her, every gesture he made towards her. If he picked up the phone on first dial, it meant that he was waiting for her call. If he was the last one to hang up, it meant he cared. If he sighed her name, which was an occurrence at this point, it meant he liked saying her name out loud. She hated that he made her nervous and brought her babbling self back to life, something she had worked on for years to get rid of.

He was rich, came from a prominent family in the city, regardless of their shadiness. He had a reputation that followed him no matter how hard he tried to escape it. Before the island, everything had been given to him on a silver platter while growing up. She had suffered through destitute because her mother had student loans to pay off but no degree or money to her name and had to work two jobs. She had gone to college and medical school herself on scholarships and had graduated with honors. He had dropped out of four colleges that he had gotten in with his family's connections. They were different.

Yet the more she talked to him, the more he opened up to her, the more time they spent together, she felt that nobody in the entire world could understand her better than Oliver Queen. Even when he failed to understand her when she constantly threw technical terms his way. He respected her, he remarked on her intelligence, he admired things about her that others didn't see and he made sure she knew about how much he cared for their friendship.

She knew that she needed to do something to keep herself away from Oliver, for both of their sakes. So she went over her application once again, sealed the envelope and mailed the package, hoping it would help, somehow.

Their almost daily phone talks were now reduced to a couple of times during the week. She was grateful for that, too, because hearing his voice on the phone, listening to him breathe her name out loud in that way he did, a way that she hadn't paid attention to much before, were not helping her either.

He was busy chasing after Malcolm Merlyn and his Undertaking and the new villain of the week that seemed to be a cornerstone in his life. Ever since he had made a promise to stop with the killing and going after the names mentioned in his father's notebook, it seemed that a new bad guy stepped on the streets each day, antagonizing Oliver. Or at least that was how she felt. As a result, at least according to Diggle, Oliver was out on the streets every night, pulling longer hours, stretching himself beyond his limits, tired but vigilant. He didn't have time for her. Another thing she was grateful for.

When Oliver asked her for lunch a couple of times during the three weeks they didn't see each other, she was quick to find excuses. She made Eleanor answer his calls to her office, telling him that she was busy with a patient. She let his calls go to voice mail and texted him courtly in response saying she was busy and would call him back later.

So she wasn't surprised at all when he showed up at her door one Tuesday night holding a bag of carry-out with an unsure smile. "Thought you'd be hungry." he commented, leaning against the doorway. She didn't respond, simply stepped aside to let him inside. "How have you been?" he asked as he followed her into the kitchen and placed the bag on the counter while she picked up plates and cutlery. "I haven't seen you in weeks."

"I've been busy." she told him as she handed him the plates and took to getting the containers out of the plastic bag. "Too many sessions. And also the police work."

"How is that going?" he asked as he followed her to the living room.

She placed the containers on the coffee table sat down on the floor opposite to him. "Harder than I imagined it would be, to be honest." she claimed. "It feels rewarding and I feel like they appreciate it at the station. I've also been trying to put a nice word in for you. For your nighttime activities. Those involving a bow and arrow, not other activities."

"I appreciate it, but I think that ship has sailed." he replied and she started laughing. "What?" he asked, confused.

"You were shipwrecked and just used a ship metaphor." she explained. "It's funny."

He smiled and picked up one of the containers to get some noodles for his plate. "They have a task force solely focusing on catching the vigilante, I don't think they'll dissemble it anytime soon."

"What did I tell you about talking about yourself in the third person?" she teased. "They've noticed the change in you, your new policy. I think they're starting to trust you."

"I owe it to you. Both the change in the policy and the good word." he said, looking right into her eyes. Felicity looked away. "Tommy's working me with me now."

"What?" she asked, surprised. "When did that happen? Why didn't you tell me? Did you take him down to the lair? Is he using your bow?"

Oliver laughed lightly. "I didn't want to tell about it over the phone, but maybe I should have." he started, with a smirk on his face. "That would have lessened the questions."

"Well, I am sorry for being inquisitive. You can't just drop a bomb like that and expect me to stay silent." Felicity said. "When did that happen?" she asked again. "And by the way, for the record, can I just say I told you so?"

"It wouldn't be you if you didn't." Oliver smiled. "Yes, you were right. After you dropped me off that day, Tommy came to the club and we talked. He told me he was grateful to me for saving his father's life and that he wanted to help. He doesn't go out on the field or provide technical assistance, he simply keeps appearances for me and gives an alibi if needed."

"That's a start." Felicity nodded. "What about Laurel?"

Oliver sighed. "She is still conflicted about the whole idea, but I think she's warming up to it. She actually came to see me at the QC today, saying the city needed helping and I was on the right path." he answered. "What about you?"

"What about me?" she asked back.

"What are you thinking about this whole thing? About what I do?"

The honesty in his voice required honest feedback from her. He was looking down on his feet, unsure of what she was going to say, unsure whether he'd like what she would say. Felicity reached out and placed her hand on top of his. She took a breath. "When you first showed up on the streets, I thought you were a criminal. Then I met you and I've seen you, I've seen what you've been doing. You're willing to sacrifice an awful lot to help the people of this city. Kinda makes you a hero, doesn't it?"

"I'm not a hero Felicity." His voice sounded broken, he refused to make eye contact. "I've too much blood on my hands."

"Oliver, I don't care about what you've done in the past. I don't care about what you've been through on the island anymore… I mean, I do, but not in the sense you think. Those things you went through… anybody could have gone through the same things and end on the flip side of where you are standing. Instead you came back here with a mission and you're willing to sacrifice yourself every night so that the citizens of this city can make it through the night. Yes, you were killing people, but you stopped and you've saved so many people. You saved my life. That makes you a hero."

"Felicity…" he argued.

"Don't Felicity me, Oliver. It's the truth. You don't value yourself. I think ever since that boat sank, you took your own life for granted and you don't expect to make it. You expect to die any moment, but no, I refuse that. You're important Oliver and if you die, a lot of people will be devastated. Including me." She got on her feet, started walking around the living room to calm herself down. "I understand. I do. With the island and watching your dad kill himself, you probably expect death to come get you any second. You're just going to spend your life down in the lair, waiting to die? I can't stand here and accept it." She turned her back to him.

A single word was heard. "Okay." It didn't sound convincing at all, but it was a start.

Felicity sighed and took her seat back on the floor. It was hard to be in love with someone who thought they deserved nothing good in life, she decided.