It only took about twenty seconds once Oliver and I were in the room for me to realize I may not have thought this through. We were still standing close, but no longer touching; the gap between us felt monumental.

"I – um – I should change."

"Felicity—"

"I'll be right back." I grabbed clean pajamas from the dresser and made for the door…only to find Oliver standing in front of it, arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes were darker than usual, but otherwise he looked a universe cooler than I felt at the moment.

"I think we should talk first."

"Oh." I stared at him, my mind a complete blank. "Maybe you should go first. I think that kiss broke my brain."

A fleeting look of pride crossed his face, then vanished. "It was a good kiss," he said softly. The butterflies in my stomach vanished. I knew that tone.

"But…" I prompted.

He wet his lips. Ran a hand through his short hair. Sighed. "But now isn't the best time to be starting something. There's the No Romance clause in your agreement, for one thing. And you have a hell of a lot on your plate." He paused, saving the big one for last. "And Ray…"

"Ray was married to an ancestor of mine a century ago," I said. "I don't get why it matters who I date now. Yes, I look like Rose – I'm sorry, but so do like a million other WASPs across the country. Does that mean you can't date them, either?"

"No," he said, with a soft laugh. "I think he'd probably be fine with that. But you…" He hesitated. "Did you ask him about what happened in Scotland? About Inverness, or what came after?"

"No," I admitted. Since the possibility of Oliver and I ripping each other's clothes off seemed to be off the table for the moment, I relaxed and flopped back onto the bed. "I have a million questions, but I couldn't bring myself to ask any of them. Something about him just…I don't know. Freaks me out."

He sat on the edge of the bed beside me, the two of us still not touching. "Funny," he said. "I'm usually the one who scares people."

I sat up and looked at him frankly. "You don't scare me." I searched his face, and bit my lip before I said anything more. Oliver's gaze darkened, locked on my mouth. "Though if you're going to look at me that way…"

"Sorry. Stop doing that thing with your mouth, and I will."

"This thing?" I asked, all innocence as I sank my teeth into my bottom lip again. Oliver sort of growled, which was sexy on a whole new plane than I'd ever known existed till that moment. He held my gaze, something dangerous in his eyes.

"Keep it up, lassie," he said quietly. A Scottish burr returned to his voice, nearly taking my breath away.

I cleared my throat and lowered my eyes, my cheeks burning, but then pulled it together and met his gaze once more. "I'm not afraid of you, Oliver," I said.

"Good. Though I don't know that that's a good thing – the truth is, I'm the last person you should trust."

"Ray said you could hurt me," I recalled.

"He was right," he said simply. This time, I couldn't help but look away. Oliver reached out, guiding my face up once more with a gentle hand at my chin. "I'm trying to be a better man – I've been trying, for a while now. But…" He shook his head, a smile touching his lips. "You took me by surprise, Felicity Smoak. I may be a better man than I was, but I don't know that I'll ever be good enough for a woman like you."

I blinked at him, trying to process the words. The man was a god. A hero. Gorgeous, in a very Playgirl-centerfold kind of way. He'd saved my life multiple times by now - and now he was telling me he wasn't good enough for me?

"If you don't want me to kiss you again, you should probably avoid saying things like that," I said.

His smile widened. "Did I say I didn't want you to kiss me again?"

"You said it wasn't a good idea," I pointed out.

"Oh. Right. I almost forgot." Still with that smile. God, he was killing me. Things stayed tense and quiet and nearly bursting with sexual tension for about sixty seconds before I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"Will you close your eyes?" I asked.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because I don't know what's going to happen between us but these jeans feel gross, so I'd like to change into my PJs and you wouldn't let me leave the room before, and now the bathroom feels a million miles away."

The smile became a grin, a spark of laughter in his eyes. "Fair enough." He closed his eyes.

I shimmied out of my jeans and sweater, shivering in the cool air. When I glanced at Oliver, his hands rested palm-down on his thighs, his eyes still closed. I couldn't read his expression. Probably for the best, I thought. I'd chosen my kittens-and-lasers flannel pajamas, which honestly were probably the least ridiculous sleepwear I owned. At some point, maybe I should consider a trip to Victoria's Secret.

I pulled on my laser kitten bottoms, then yanked an old Oregon State sweatshirt over my head. So…definitely no sex tonight. Or possibly ever.

"Okay," I said. "You can open your eyes."

He did, and smiled at sight of the kittens. "Nice."

"You sure you want to pass this up?" I asked, trying to be light. Oliver's eyes lingered on mine yet again. The man was a genius at eye contact.

"No," he said softly. "I'm not sure at all."

I closed my eyes. "That's not fair."

"Sorry. You want me to be honest though, right?"

"I do," I agreed.

I stood, and pulled back the blankets on my bed. Oliver was still sitting on the edge, but hopped up quickly.

"What are you doing?"

"It's cold in here," I explained, then yawned. "And it's possible I might be getting a little tired."

"Then I should go."

I caught his hand and held tight before he could move. "Could you stay a little longer? I know you can't spend the night in here – you deserve a good night's sleep as much as the next guy. But I just…"

He squeezed my hand. And then, to my surprise, he moved to the other side of the bed and lay down.

"Is this all right?" he asked quietly. I rolled over to look at him. My Oliver, now just inches away. He rolled so we were face to face.

"This is all right," I said.

He reached out and pushed the hair back from my face. My eyes sank shut as he continued to stroke my hair.

"I had one of my visions," I said. "When I was with Ray. A vision of Rose and Ray fighting about you. She said you were married."

His hand paused for an instant, then fell away completely. I looked at him again. The bedside lamp was on, casting his face in shadow, but he was still clear beside me. I'd never felt closer to anyone – like I could see straight into his soul.

"Were you married, Oliver?"

He nodded, just barely. "I was."

I considered that, a million questions immediately springing to mind. "Did you have children?"

A ghost of a smile, tortured and raw, touched his lips. "One. A girl – Abigail."

"What happened to them?"

The pain on his face was so pure I felt it run straight through me. He took a deep breath. I expected him to put me off, tell me to go to sleep. He did neither.

"They died," he said. "There was a fire – about a year after everything with Dahrk. I wasn't home. Neither of them got out alive."

My eyes filled. He traced the track of one of my tears with his finger, his touch feather-light on my skin.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice just a whisper.

"Because you aren't."

"I ran out of tears years ago, I think," he said seriously, that sad smile touching his lips once more. "I still think about them, though. Abigail especially. Every day, I wonder…"

"How old was she when the fire…?"

"Six. We conceived during the war – I was a soldier. I was captured by the Germans; this was WWI, 1916. After six months, they released me and I was sent back to Inverness. I met Mary, and…well." He shrugged.

"Mary was your wife?"

"Aye," he agreed, and I smiled at the word. I could definitely get used to Scottish Oliver. "Though not at the time. We got together, and then I shipped out again. By the time the war was over, Abigail was a year old. I married her mother. Not because I loved her – we barely knew each other. But I wanted to be a father. Wanted to be a good husband."

"And were you? A good husband?"

He shook his head, pure self-loathing in his eyes. "I was shit. Drank too much, cheated on her… Once the war was over, everything went wrong. I didn't know who I was. I had a thousand scars – some visible, some not – and all these expectations for what should happen next. I wasn't sleeping; wasn't eating. Couldn't find a job."

"And that's how you hooked up with Ray?"

"We met at a bar one night in Inverness. I'd been working security for Damian Dahrk… had gotten close with the family." The way he paused before he said 'close' set something off in my head.

"Damian's daughter," I interrupted. "What was her name – Helena?"

He smiled a little at that. The past disappeared from his eyes, and he came back to me for a second. "You remember too much."

"Tell me about it," I agreed, rolling my eyes. I snuggled deeper into the blanket, humming contentedly when Oliver's hand returned to my cheek. "So… You and Helena had an affair. Is that why Rose hated her?"

Oliver looked surprised. "What makes you say that?"

I shrugged. "Just a feeling I get. When Rose was talking about you to Ray in my vision – when they were fighting – I could feel her fear. She was afraid of him – or afraid of something, anyway. Maybe him finding something out." I studied him frankly. "Did you sleep with Rose, too? I mean…it sounds like you kind of got around. Were you in love with her?"

There was no confrontation in my voice – seriously, this was a hundred years ago. Mostly, I just wanted to finally know the story.

This time when Oliver spoke, his eyes never strayed from mine. There was sadness there, maybe a little regret, but I didn't get the sense that he was hiding anything.

"No. Nothing ever happened between Rose and me, though she had gotten it in her head that…" He wet his lips, looking uncomfortable. "She thought she was in love with me. But I – I was in love with Helena by then. I was technically still married to Mary, but she and I rarely saw each other. Never talked. I went to the house to take care of Abigail two days a week while Mary went out, and I gave them whatever money I earned, but… I was with Helena, for all intents and purposes."

"So why would you steal from her?"

"I didn't know that was the plan."

My eyes widened, and he grimaced.

"I know – how stupid can you be, right? The original plan was to take a different necklace from another woman, the wife of one of Dahrk's rivals, at a party he was throwing at his castle. I'm not sure when Rose decided she had to have Helena's stone instead. There's no way I would have gone along with it, had I known."

"What happened?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, really. My part was to create a diversion, distract the guards. Even though the woman was a rival, Damian wouldn't have wanted something to happen on his watch – I knew he would be pissed, but Helena was always good at making him see things her way."

His eyes grew distant. I slipped mine closed, picturing events as they unfolded.

I don't know exactly when his memories shifted to Rose's visions – it happened gradually, until Oliver's soothing voice was lost in the background.

And suddenly, I was back at the bar.

On the pool table, my legs spread, a man hovering over me with his pants unbuckled. He was going to rape me, and there was nothing I could do.

Let her go, a familiar voice growled, with a decidedly less familiar, thick Scottish brogue. The crowd parted, though the man above Rose didn't move.

Wait your turn, kid, the man above me said. He was huge, with a thick black beard and penetrating black eyes, and an Australian accent I hadn't noticed before.

Oliver stood behind him, larger than life, a knife clutched in one hand. I scanned the room. Ray was battered and bloodied, unconscious in the corner – barely recognizable.

I'm not looking for a turn – I don't need to force anyone to spread her legs for me, Oliver said. He strode into the room. All it took was one look from him at the other men holding Rose down, and they released her.

I don't have to do it this way, either, the man above Rose said. He'd buttoned his fly and had hauled Rose off the pool table and back to solid ground, but he still had her by the throat. It's just more fun this way.

I said let her go, Oliver repeated. His voice had gone dangerously quiet, sending a chill through me.

Hold on to her till I'm done, the man said to one of the others in the crowd. This guy didn't hesitate, pulling Rose to him with a hand fisted in his hair. I yelped at the pain. Somewhere far off, I could sense Oliver – my Oliver, in the present – trying to get me back. I couldn't leave the scene, though.

What'll you give me for her, kid? the man asked.

I won't kill you, Oliver said calmly. Did you want more than that, Slade?

The man called Slade just sneered. That's tough talk from a wizard's messenger boy. You think just because you're fucking the boss's daughter, I'm going to quake in my boots?

Slade surveyed Oliver, seeming to take his measure before he shook his head. Get out of here, kid. Leave me to my business, and I'll stay out of yours.

He turned, and grabbed Rose from the other man – once more, gripping her by the throat. I'm tired of this place anyway. How about we go somewhere a bit more private, sweetheart?

He dragged Rose toward the door. I gasped for breath, clutching at my throat, the door looming ahead. Ray couldn't see her – Rose knew that. I knew that.

Please, she rasped, barely able to get the word out, looking desperately for Oliver.

What happened next came in a blur – shouts and a woman's scream, a gunshot, and Slade and Oliver battling each other like warriors while Rose was tossed to the side. In the chaos, she was knocked into a wall. I felt a roar of pain, and everything went black.

"Felicity?"

I opened my eyes to find Oliver hovering over me, looking frantic. I looked around, relieved to see that I was back in the Merlyn bedroom. Back in the present.

"I'm okay," I whispered. The words came out a rasp, as though I really had been Rose in that bar. There was no part of me that didn't hurt.

Oliver stroked his hand over my forehead, fear still clear in his eyes. "What the hell just happened?" he finally managed.

"You saved her," I said. "Rose – you saved her life. In that bar in Scotland… That's how you met."

He frowned. When he was convinced I wasn't going to up and die on him, he settled back at my bedside. His hand fell to my hair once more, like he couldn't stop himself from touching me now that I was all right.

"We didn't meet that night," he said. "I saw what was happening, and I stepped in. Rose was knocked out in the fight, though, and Ray was already out cold. I took off to avoid getting arrested. Ray and I met three weeks later. I didn't even realize who Rose was until she thanked me, later – when we had a few minutes away from Ray."

"And she fell for you then," I guessed. "Hard."

He shrugged. "She thought I was something I wasn't."

"The hero who saved her life?"

He rolled his eyes. "I was no hero. Trust me."

"Apparently Rose didn't see it that way."

Silence fell between us. My throat was still sore, my body aching. The past receded, until it was just Oliver and me in the room once more.

"You should try to sleep," he said. He tipped his head a little, studying me, his hand a gentle pressure on my cheek. "You've had a decade's worth of bad days in the past forty-eight hours. You can't save the butterflies and the songbirds if you're exhausted, Felicity."

My eyes sank shut, completely against my will. "And the bees," I murmured. "Don't forget the bees."

I could feel his smile as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. "No," he agreed. "How could I, with you here to remind me. Sleep, Felicity."

And finally, unable to manage a single question more, I did.

Thanks so much to all who have reviewed so far! I know these aren't the sexy times you may have hoped for, but I definitely want to be true to the characters and the story as I've imagined them... It doesn't really make sense for the two of them to just get on with the getting-on without a little more preparation (and angst) at this point. Hopefully you agree. Trust me, we'll get there! I'll be back in a day or two with the next chapter. As always, reviews/comments/feedback of any kind invariably make me write faster. Thanks for reading!