A/N: In my notes for Chapter 10 (Fundamental Constants), I mentioned that my first version of the chapter was harder on Oliver. I had toned it down because I've found that many readers (myself included) don't always enjoy reading Angry Felicity. Plus, it seemed a little cruel and OOC for her to argue with Oliver when he is in prison and his life sucks.

However, there were a few comments on another fanfic board that suggested Oliver got off easy. So I cleaned up the original draft and am putting it out there for folks who want to hear Felicity speak her mind a little more. The events are essentially the same as in Chapter 10. The dialogue goes a little differently. You can decide which version you like better.

I originally had "The Definition of Insanity" as a working title, for reasons you'll understand if you read this. The quote about insanity has sometimes been attributed to Einstein (probably incorrectly) which would have loosely fit with the Physics theme.

When Felicity Smoak was having a bad day, which was most days lately, she would think about her husband and wonder whose prison was worse; hers or his. Then she would immediately kick herself for being a wuss. After all, everyone referred to her prison as protective custody. She had decent food, a comfortable place to sleep, and most of the amenities she was accustomed to. Oliver had a thin bunk and was surrounded by psychopaths who wanted to kill him. Physically, there was no comparison. And her prison was finite; it was expected to end when Diaz was captured and she was no longer being threatened. Oliver's prison was anticipated to last – if not for the rest of his life – then at least for a couple of decades.

On the other hand, Oliver had chosen his prison while she'd had no say in hers. He'd assessed the situation with Diaz and decided that the best thing for everyone was to out himself as The Green Arrow and then surrender to the FBI. In return, he'd obtained immunity for The Arrow's associates and a commitment from the FBI to pursue Diaz until the man was neutralized. (Felicity hated the expression neutralized. Neutralized is what happens in chemistry when you mix an acid with a base. Diaz was either going to be killed or locked up.) At any rate, Oliver had been able to prepare himself mentally for his prison. Felicity had not.

She couldn't decide what stung the most; that Oliver had kept another secret from her, that she'd learned about it at the same time as the rest of the team (meaning that he'd treated her as if she were his associate instead of his wife), or that he'd yet again made a huge, life-altering decision without talking to her. It really didn't matter. What mattered was that he'd unilaterally determined that Felicity, at the age of twenty-seven, was going to be a single parent, destined to sleep alone for a very long time. Which really meant that her prison wasn't so finite after all; it was going to last as long as his, regardless of what happened to Diaz. Because what choice had he left her? Anything she could do to reclaim her life, like sending William to one of his mother's relatives or falling in love with another man, seemed unthinkable.

On the days when her sense of humor wasn't failing her, she had to smile at the irony of the situation – although that smile was tinged with a little anger. Three years ago, her happy engagement to Oliver had fallen apart because he hadn't trusted her with the news that he had a son. Now, her happy marriage to Oliver was in limbo because he'd done what he'd thought was necessary to ensure that she could raise that son. He'd gone from keeping William out of her life to making William the center of her life – and had never once asked Felicity how she felt about either. As much as she loved Oliver, she couldn't help thinking that what he'd done was pretty damn selfish. And if she allowed herself to reflect on it too long, it even made her question the place she occupied in his life. It was clear his son's health and happiness were at the top of his priority list. But where she fell in the pecking order wasn't so obvious.

Fortunately, having single parenthood thrust upon her didn't make Felicity resent William. She knew the kid wasn't responsible for Oliver's decision and – besides – he was very easy to love. He was smart, sensitive and considerate, and he often found ways to make her smile. However, it would be a lie to say that caring for him didn't depress her at times. There was a pretty strong physical resemblance between Oliver and his son, and when William stubbornly locked his jaw or obsessed over some imagined failure, Felicity would feel a wave of longing for her absent husband – sometimes followed by a bout of anger for the position he'd placed her in.

As happens with all major life changes, old routines were replaced with new ones quicker than anyone would have anticipated. Since William couldn't go to school, Felicity took on the role of teacher as well as mother and friend, and she and William settled into a rhythm of living in the ARGUS secure facility that included study, exercise, and whatever they could drum up for fun. Felicity and William sometimes had dinner on Saturday evenings with the Diggles, but didn't encourage visits from the rest of the former team members. Felicity couldn't help thinking that she wouldn't be in this place if the new folks had stayed with Oliver when he'd first needed their help to defeat Diaz. And immunity wouldn't have been necessary if Rene hadn't betrayed Oliver to the FBI in the first place. Oliver may have done his best to mend fences before he went to prison, but Felicity didn't feel the same obligation.

Whatever Felicity thought about Oliver's one-sided decision to turn himself in, she made damn sure to keep those thoughts from William. She never wanted to the kid to imagine that he was a burden to her or that she didn't love him. Still, he was perceptive enough to realize on his own that Oliver hadn't exactly used a democratic process when he'd set the course for the rest of their lives.

This became clear one day during a math lesson when they were talking about pi.

"The textbook says pi is an irrational number," William said, pointing to one of the pages. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means that it can't be expressed accurately as a fraction," Felicity replied. "You know how one over two – or one half - is exactly the same as point five? You can't do that with pi. It starts as three point one, but the numbers after the decimal point never end; they go on forever and ever. There's no fraction that's the exact equivalent."

William frowned. "Is that important?"

Felicity shrugged. "One of the things computer scientists like to talk about is how fast a new computer can calculate pi to billions of decimal places. But that's kind of a party trick. What's really important about pi is that it's a fundamental constant. It's the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter – and it has the same value for every circle that ever existed, no matter how big or small." When William didn't say anything, she continued, "It's pretty cool, when you think about it. It works for a penny, it works for a tire, and it works for a planet – assuming the planet is perfectly round – which the earth really isn't, it's an oblate spheroid – but, you get my point."

William nodded. "Fundamental constant," he repeated.

"There's several fundamental constants in physics," Felicity went on. "The speed of light is one. It's the same everywhere in the universe. And all electrons have the same weight – as do protons. And one of my favorites is the fact that all objects on earth fall at the same speed, no matter how heavy they are. Well, they do in a vacuum, anyway."

William nodded again.

"I always liked the idea of fundamental constants," Felicity said. "You can count on them to be the same, no matter where you are or what's going on. They're consistent. They can't be changed."

"Kind of like Dad," William said dryly. Then he grinned. "I bet you're not so crazy about that fundamental constant."

Felicity raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

William shrugged. "Just that you can always count on him to do the same thing when stuff hits the fan. He'll go off on his own and try to fix it. He doesn't talk about it with anyone – he just does what he thinks needs to be done."

Out of the mouths of babes, Felicity thought.

William's grin faded as he watched Felicity's face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about Dad. I've upset you."

She shook her head. "No, don't apologize," she replied. "You're right, that's your father." She tried to assume an even expression. "The good news is that he usually has honorable motives for the choices he makes. But I sometimes wish he would discuss them more. I hope when you grow up and get married that you make sure to talk things over with your spouse."

William rolled the pencil he'd been using for math problems between his thumb and fingers. It was a nervous gesture. "He made you a single mom without asking you," he said. His brow furrowed. "A year ago, you hadn't even met me. Now, you're trapped at an ARGUS facility, raising me. You could be off working on your business or doing a million other things…" His voice died off.

Felicity was taken aback. It was the first time she had ever heard William refer to her as a mom, and it both warmed and frightened her. It seemed like such a huge responsibility. She was also a little anxious that William might feel trapped with her. After all, he hadn't chosen this situation, either. "Don't ever think that I feel stuck raising you," she reassured him. "I'm so happy to be going through this with you and not alone. We may not have known each other long, but we are family."

William didn't reply, but he looked relieved. After a minute, they continued the math lesson and didn't speak of Oliver again for the rest of the day.

Later that night when Felicity was lying alone in bed, she thought about what William had said. When stuff hits the fan, he'll go off on his own and try to fix it. The kid sure had it right. For as long as she'd known Oliver that was exactly what he'd do. He'd involve her and John up to a point, but then eventually make his own decision and not share it until the last minute – if at all. And that decision usually included him doing something solo. He'd gone to Lian Yu after the Undertaking, he'd run away to offer himself as a sacrifice to Slade Wilson (which they thankfully had been able to stop), and he'd devised a plan to defeat Ra's al Ghul without talking to either her or John. He'd even decided most recently that he wanted to go back to being The Arrow - alone. His decision. His plan. No discussion.

Felicity had thought that things would change – that he would change - when they got married, since their lives now were now irrevocably joined and whatever decisions he made affected them both. But apparently her husband couldn't or wouldn't alter this aspect of himself. It made her wonder what marriage even meant to Oliver.

She remembered the old axiom about insanity: The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results. Every time Oliver had made a major decision without her, it had created a tear in their relationship. They'd talk about it later - how things turned out better when they worked as couple - and he would agree that he would include her going forward. And then he didn't; and the cycle repeated itself. Between the two of them, she wasn't sure who the insane one was; Oliver, for continuing to exclude her and thinking there would be no repercussions, or herself, for believing him when he said he would change. Because after his latest decision, it seemed pretty obvious that Oliver was going to do what he wanted to do.

He was a fundamental constant.

It turned out the FBI wasn't as good at neutralizing Diaz as they'd thought they'd be. For a couple of weeks the Feds insisted that Diaz had died from his fall and spent precious time searching the waters around Star City for his body. By the time they admitted that he was alive and had escaped, Diaz was in the wind.

Eventually, a somewhat subdued Special Agent Watson approached Felicity and asked if she could assist with the manhunt. Felicity could tell right away that requesting help was something Watson would have preferred not to do. It was essentially admitting the FBI wasn't living up to its end of the bargain it had made with Oliver.

"You used to help Queen locate his targets, right?" the agent asked Felicity sourly. "You're the expert hacker?"

Felicity hesitated before answering. Regardless of what Oliver may have confessed to Watson (and since he hadn't discussed it with Felicity, she had no clue), she had always taken the position that Oliver had been exonerated in Star City's courts and there was no hard evidence that he was The Green Arrow. She wasn't about to change that story now and give the Feds any more ammunition.

"I don't know what you mean by Oliver's targets," she replied. "I am good with computers. And I'm happy to help find Diaz, if you think my skills can be of assistance. William and I would very much like to be able to leave the ARGUS facility and they won't let us go until Diaz is caught – which, given your progress, doesn't seem likely to happen soon."

Agent Watson gave her an exasperated look, but accepted her offer of help.

Felicity spent a couple of days scanning traffic on the dark web, looking for signs that Diaz was trying to reassemble a gang in Star City. There were none. "I think Diaz has left," she told Watson. "There are rumors out there about him joining with something called the Longbow Hunters? Do you know who they are?" When Watson shook her head, Felicity continued, "I haven't got a location on him, but I'm pretty sure he's not around here."

She relayed the same information later to Lyla and John Diggle. "What do you think?" she asked them. "From what I can tell, Diaz is nowhere near Star City. Do William and I still need to stay in protective custody? I'd love to see his life get a little more normal – for him to go back to school and be around kids his own age."

Lyla glanced at John and the two of them had some kind of silent conversation. "I can't imagine facing Oliver if anything happens to you or William," Lyla finally said. "I know you're tired of protective custody, but I'm reluctant to let you go until Diaz is dead or locked up. However, I think we might be able to compromise a little. I can assign you a bodyguard so that you can at least leave the facility for daytrips. That way, it won't feel like you're totally confined." John nodded his agreement.

It wasn't exactly what Felicity had been hoping for, but it was better than nothing. Lyla assigned an agent named Jackson Taylor as their personal security guard and he patiently escorted them on outings for school supplies, shoe shopping (for Felicity), and trips to the movies. When Lyla first introduced Jackson, Felicity was taken aback. The bodyguard was dark-haired, attractive and fit-looking, but not physically imposing; he was about five-nine or five-ten, and she guessed that he was younger than her. Not to mention that he stammered nervously every time he tried to talk to her.

"Are you sure this guy has experience?" Felicity asked Lyla, when the introductions were over and Jackson had headed off to the ARGUS gym. "He looks young and he can barely get two words out."

Lyla smiled. "He may not have a lot of experience with pretty women," she replied, "but he's outstanding in hand-to-hand and he keeps his head when the bullets start flying. He'll take care of you, trust me."

Felicity nodded. "Okay."

"Besides," Lyla added, "I don't think Oliver would be too happy with me if I gave you a real charmer for a bodyguard. Better to have one that's a little shy."

Felicity shrugged. "I suppose," she said unenthusiastically. "Although to be honest, given that Oliver pretty much consigned me to celibacy for the rest of my life when he decided to turn himself in, I kind of think he has to take his chances with my bodyguard."

Lyla laughed. "Fair point."

Jackson may have been tongue-tied around Felicity, but he clearly felt more at ease with William because he began spending time with the boy, even when his services as a bodyguard weren't required. They played video games together and Jackson taught William how to shoot a basketball and throw a baseball.

"Do you mind, ma'am?" he asked Felicity, the first time she'd gone searching for William and had found the two of them on the basketball court by the ARGUS gym.

She shook her head. "Not at all. You two looked like you were having a good time. Do you have kids of your own, Jackson?"

He blushed. "Not yet, ma'am, but I certainly hope to one day."

"Something tells me you'll make a great father."

His blush turned a shade deeper. "Thank you, ma'am. And if you don't mind me saying so, I think you're a great mom. Will's a lucky kid."

It took a couple of weeks for Felicity to convince Jackson to call her by her name, instead of ma'am. By then, the bodyguard was spending time with William nearly every day, and sometimes conquered his shyness enough to talk with her, too. She was grateful. Being with Jackson gave William a chance to ask questions that a boy nearing adolescence might not want to ask a woman. He needed an adult male figure in his life, particularly since their opportunities to communicate with Oliver were severely restricted. And, a little voice in her head said, it doesn't hurt that you get to spend a bit of time with someone who can make you forget your problems, too.

Right from the start, the Feds had told Felicity that she and Oliver would not be allowed to email each other and that Oliver would be permitted no phone calls until he had earned that privilege. They didn't offer further explanation, but Felicity was certain they were afraid she would send her husband some kind of coded message to help him escape – which, in all fairness, is exactly what she would have done if she could have come up with something. She and William were permitted to send Oliver letters and photos. However, she was willing to bet that everything they sent was carefully inspected by cryptography experts before Oliver received it.

To her surprise, three months after Oliver's arrest, Felicity was told by Agent Watson that she was going to be allowed to visit her husband in person. According to Jackson, the opportunity to see an inmate in a supermax prison was unusual. Most inmates, he explained, were kept alone in their cells twenty-three hours a day, and only allowed one hour for exercise, showering, and maybe a phone call – all under the supervision of guards. Felicity guessed that this visit was Agent Watson's roundabout way of saying thank you for her help searching for Diaz.

Felicity was nervous the night before they were going to see Oliver. She didn't know what to expect from him, especially since he'd essentially been in solitary confinement for three months. He had seemed so resigned, almost detached, when they'd said their goodbyes. Would three months alone in a cell make him think about his decision differently? She wondered how she should respond when he asked how she and William were doing? Should she put on brave face and tell him everything was fine, or should she tell him the truth? She tossed and turned for an hour or two before falling into an uneasy sleep.

Her first impression of the supermax facility was that it made Iron Heights look like a daycare center. It was all steel and concrete surrounded by a razor wire fence, and everything about it felt heavy; heavy cement walls, heavy metal doors, officers holding heavy guns. Jackson, who had guarded them on their way to the prison, explained that any time an inmate was moved out of his cell, he was accompanied by at least two security officers. Felicity felt the heaviness of the prison bearing down on her before they even stepped into the main building and wondered whether she had done the right thing bringing William. The boy had been in some frightening situations with Oliver in the past, but this felt different. It felt permanent.

They were thoroughly searched and made to hand over everything they carried before they were allowed to get past the check-in area. Felicity's purse and phone were taken, and even their shoes were inspected. At Jackson's suggestion, Felicity had worn no jewelry; no earrings or necklace – not even her wedding ring – since she would have been required to remove those items as well. For a minute she thought they might take her glasses, but they handed them back to her after a thorough examination. Then the three of them were led down a long hallway and into a windowless room. The room was all grey concrete – walls, floors, even the ceiling. There was a heavy metal table in the middle of it, bolted to the floor, with a single metal chair on one side and two chairs on the other. The prison officer pointed them to the side of the table with two chairs.

Felicity and William went to the chairs and sat uncertainly. Jackson hovered protectively a few feet away and the prison officer stationed himself near the door.

They waited.

She heard Oliver before she saw him. There was a clink of chains and the sound of heavy boots, and then Oliver stepped into the room, accompanied by the two guards that Jackson had warned her about. The boots belonged to the guards. Oliver wore light shoes and a uniform that looked like olive green hospital scrubs. The guards pushed Oliver none-too-gently into the chair, and then shackled his wrists to the table and his ankles to the floor. After that, they stepped back a couple of feet and stood. Felicity was to have no privacy.

"Oliver," she breathed, reaching across to take his hands.

One of the guards removed a solid wooden baton from his utility belt and slapped it against his palm. Oliver slowly shook his head.

"We're not allowed to touch," he said in a low voice.

"What?"

"We're not allowed to touch," he repeated. "They don't want to risk you slipping me anything."

She felt tears begin to fill her eyes, as much due to frustration as from sadness. After all this time, she wasn't allowed to even hold his hand? "I had to leave my purse and phone at the check-in area; I went through two metal detectors; and I was frisked," she said. "After all that, we still can't touch?"

He gave her a small smile. There was no happiness in it. It was a smile that said; what can you do?

"You look good," he said quietly. His eyes moved to William. "Both of you look good."

Felicity's heart sank. This was the Oliver she had seen on the day when they had said their goodbyes; subdued, resigned. If he was feeling the same pain at their separation as she was, he had buried it somewhere deep within himself and wasn't showing it. He just seemed tired.

She tried to force a little cheer into her voice. "You look good, too," she said.

It was almost true. There were a few yellow bruises on his face, but they looked old and he appeared healthy overall. A little thinner than she liked to see, but still fit and strong. She guessed that twenty-three hours alone in his cell gave him a lot of time for pushups and sit-ups. She wondered what it was doing for his mental health.

"How is it?" she asked, wrapping an entire list of questions in the one, simple sentence. Is it safe? Do you feel okay? Do you get any news? Are you going crazy?

He shrugged and continued to give her the small smile that contained no joy. "Could be worse," he replied. "Three squares a day and a lot of peace and quiet."

Felicity opened her mouth but then hesitated, surprised by Oliver's response. He probably intended it to be light and reassuring, but it came across to her as glib. She'd been devastated – she was still devastated - by their separation, and it felt like he'd just attempted a joke. She didn't like it.

Oliver turned to William. "Thanks for the letters, buddy," he said softly. "I love hearing about everything you're doing." He returned his gaze to Felicity. "Things must be going well with Diaz if ARGUS is allowing you trips outside the safe facility."

Felicity frowned. "The FBI hasn't told you?"

The half-smile disappeared from Oliver's face. "Told me what? I have no TV or computer access. I get no news here at all, Felicity."

She started to reach for his hand again, but then remembered that she wasn't allowed. "The FBI hasn't been able to find Diaz," she said. "They asked me to help search for him a few weeks ago. The best I can tell from monitoring the dark web is that he left Star City right after Black Siren sent him into the water."

Oliver's face darkened. After a pause, he said, "William, can you give Felicity and me a minute?" His tone suggested no wasn't going to be an acceptable answer, even though there weren't a lot of places for William to go. The room wasn't terribly large.

William looked at his father. "Okay," he said. He got up and walked to Jackson. The two of them went to a corner and started talking softly.

Oliver leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "Why are you leaving protective custody if Diaz is still out there?" he asked Felicity quietly.

She shook her head. "We're not leaving protective custody. We still live at the facility. We just take a day trip once in a while with a bodyguard. It gives both William and me a chance to feel a little normal again."

Oliver stared across the room at Jackson. "Is that your bodyguard? He looks like he's eighteen."

"He's twenty-five and Lyla says he's very skilled. We're careful, Oliver."

He looked into her eyes. "Felicity, this is not a time for you to be brave. I've trusted you with William's safety. Please tell me that you're not doing anything stupid."

Stupid. The word rankled and the disappointment that Felicity had felt at the beginning of their meeting started to simmer into anger. She did her best to quiet it. Her husband was in prison and her opportunities to visit him were limited. She didn't want to waste this visit on an argument.

"Lyla, John and I discussed it," she said. "As best as anyone can tell, Diaz is far from Star City and his gang is gone as well – either dead or scattered. ARGUS has analyzed the situation. Everyone agrees the risk of the day trips is very low."

"Everyone," Oliver repeated.

Once more, she didn't like the way he said the word. It was as if he was questioning her common sense, along with John and Lyla's. Despite her efforts to remain calm, the simmer of anger started to turn into a boil. "Maybe now is a good time for you to share with me, Oliver, what your plan was if the FBI failed to get Diaz. Is it for William and me to live at the ARGUS facility for the rest of our lives? I don't think that's practical."

Oliver stared at her.

"I know it doesn't compare to your prison," she continued, gesturing vaguely around her, "but life in protective custody is its own kind of prison. William can't go to school and he doesn't get the chance to see people his own age. And I can't work. Spending hours binge-watching television shows may sound fun but it gets old after a while."

Oliver sat back. "You're angry," he said. His voice was flat.

Felicity thought about trying to deny it. This was not how she had wanted their reunion to go. But she didn't think she could deny it convincingly. "Yes, I'm angry, Oliver," she conceded.

"You're angry because I wanted to keep you and William safe?"

"I'm angry that you decided how you were going to keep us safe, without once consulting me."

He bowed his head. "I figured that was what was bothering you. You have to understand that there wasn't a lot of time, Felicity, and there really weren't any other options. What else could I have done?"

"You could have discussed it with me. Maybe I would have come to the same conclusion you did – that you had to turn yourself in – but at least we would have talked it over and I would have been on board with the plan. And saying you didn't have time is bullshit. You had a suit made for John – which means you had to have been thinking about turning yourself in for several days."

Oliver lifted his eyes to meet hers for a few seconds and then lowered them.

"Yeah," she said, "that's what I thought."

"Felicity, the FBI will find Diaz. You're not going to have to stay in protective custody forever."

"Maybe. But at the moment, they aren't making a whole hell of a lot of progress. There are people who have been on the most-wanted list for years, Oliver. What if Diaz turns out to be one of those? How long do you think we're supposed to wait?"

Oliver said nothing.

"I think the worst part of this entire situation," Felicity went on, feeling strangely relieved to say the things that had been churning in her mind for months, "is that it's given me a lot of time to think and it's starting to make me question why you ever married me in the first place. Hell, Oliver, I learned that you were turning yourself in at the same time as the rest of the team – as if I were just another member of the team and not your wife." She shook her head. "I honestly don't know what position I hold in your life. Sometimes it feels like you care about Overwatch more than me."

For the first time she saw a spark of something real pass across his face. She had caught him by surprise. "Are you questioning whether I love you?" he asked uncertainly.

"I'm questioning what you think marriage is – what a wife is. You shut big pieces of yourself off from me. It makes me wonder why you married me. "

Oliver shook his head. "It's very simple, Felicity. Please don't overcomplicate this. I married you because I love you and I always want to be with you. You – not Overwatch. Don't ever doubt that."

She took off her glasses and pressed her fingers over her eyes. She was afraid she was going to burst into tears in front of Jackson and three prison guards. "How can I help but doubt it, when you make a decision to leave me – very likely for the rest of our lives - without ever talking to me about it? It's great that you took care of your son, but it feels like you didn't give much thought about how your decision would affect my life."

His gaze moved to her left hand. "Is that why you're not wearing your wedding ring?"

She rested her forehead on her palm. "No. I'm not wearing my ring because Jackson said everything would be taken when we checked-in, which turned out to be true. I didn't wear any jewelry at all today."

"Jackson?"

"Our bodyguard." She tilted her head in Jackson's direction.

Oliver studied Jackson again. "He seems to get along well with William," he said in a neutral tone.

Felicity nodded. "Yes. They get along well."

"And what about you? Does he get along well with you, too?"

Felicity searched his voice for undercurrents of emotion – anger, jealousy, suspicion – and was surprised to hear fear. Questioning their marriage seemed to have shaken Oliver up. So, she replied matter-of-factly, "We do okay. We're still getting to know each other. He's nervous around me and doesn't say much. I only got him to stop calling me ma'am a week ago."

Oliver smiled – his first genuine smile since had they started talking. It was a smile that said; that sounds more like my Felicity. It was nice to see, she thought, but it didn't really change anything.

Oliver must have seen that, because his smile quickly faded. "So, where does this leave us?" he asked, searching her face. "Where does this leave our marriage?"

She glanced at the heavy metal cuffs holding his wrists to the table. "I honestly don't know, Oliver. I love you, but I'm not sure I can spend the rest of my life alone. I'm young and I had hoped one day to have children myself. If you're really in here for life…" Her voice died off.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds. "Suppose I'm not," he said nervously. "Suppose the FBI changes its mind or I find another way out of here. Then what?"

She shrugged. "Then I still don't know. I don't think I can be with you if you aren't able to include me in the big decisions you make, if you can't treat me as your wife. Every time you do it, it's like a knife to the heart. It makes me feel like I'm not very important to you."

Oliver inhaled sharply. "And if I change? Will you still be with me then?"

Maybe, Felicity thought, although I think the real question is whether you can change, or whether you're a fundamental constant.

She sat back in her chair. "Change," she said, "and then we'll talk about it."