"I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT EVERY TIME I TELL YOU TO GET HOME SAFE, STAY WARM, HAVE A GOOD DAY OR SLEEP WELL, WHAT I'M REALLY SAYING IS I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU SO DAMN MUCH THAT IT IS STARTING TO STEAL OTHER WORDS' MEANINGS"

Helena Bertinelli

"There is sometimes, in the discourse around gender, the assumption that women are supposed to be morally "better" than men. They are not. Women are as human as men are. Female goodness is as normal as female evil."

The words resonate too great for me to continue reading. Considering my present circumstances and the decisions I've made that led to them, the words on the page hit too close to home.

As a result, I'm forced to fold the corner of the page and put down Dear Ijeawele; the book that's been keeping me company for the past month. I've read various pages, skipping some, marking others with a fold, but I've yet to read this page, and it seems as if I'm not going to continue any further.

Instead, I've chosen to stare at the bland ceiling; the ceiling that the guards allowed me to draw on for five minutes, under a careful scrutiny of course. Forgoing pictures, I wrote words, quotes to be exact. Quotes from my favourite book.

"Feminism and Femininity are not mutually exclusive. It is misogynistic to suggest that they are,"

The loud chatter that erupts in the usually silent Iron Heights is what takes my attention away from the ceiling to the hall, which is now occupied by four prison guards instead of the customary two. This area of the prison is well known for its lack of trouble, and as a result, guards and guns are a rarity.

Curious over the reason for the commotion, I look to Amber Yamana, the inmate placed in the cell next to mine, to find her already staring at me.

"You know what's happening?" I ask her, even though I know the question is moot. Amber always has the recent gossip about what transpires in this place. I've yet to figure out how since she keeps to herself most, if not all, the time.

She shakes her head at me as if I were a poor insolent child. I resist the urge to pound her face on the bars, "Haven't you heard Bertinelli, Oliver Queen is here."

Ice-cold shock runs through me at the words, and I turn away from Amber to prevent her from seeing the pain slice through my chest. I never thought I was going to see Oliver again. It was justifiable of course, we weren't exactly the best of friends, but I owe a lot to him, and always found myself wondering time to time how he was doing.

I look at Amber, hating her smug grin, "Why?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes and I know better than to assume it was at me, she's stupid but not enough to anger the Huntress; I've become notorious for violence since my rampage, "Something about interviewing old QC members who were put in prison. That's what I heard Chester saying anyway."

I nod thoughtfully. Chester is one of the night guards, and a very reliable source since all the other prison guards enjoy talking to his drunken ass more often than not, oblivious to the fact that his mind is sharper when inebriated.

It hasn't even been an hour since Amber gave me the information when Oliver Queen walks into my sector of the jail. I take a step back into the shadows when I spot him, fully aware that he's going to do his customary room scan; looking for entrances, exits and threats. I don't know why I do it, but I hide. I suppose it's because some part of me is ashamed at what I did to him; what I did thanks to him.

It's only when I catch sight of blonde hair, that I press myself further into the walls, ignoring Amber's questioning glances that are becoming less subtle as the moments go by.

It's odd that I'm surprised. I shouldn't be. The reason why I had targeted Felicity Smoak that day was not only because of her genius mind but also because of Oliver's fierce protectiveness over her.

I'll admit it now, I was jealous. Even when I was practically a carbon copy of the true Oliver Queen, I wasn't able to garner his attention, worry, and adoration the way Felicity Smoak did. The fear that went through his eyes when Felicity walked into the basement was the first and only sign of fear I've ever seen from him.

I resume my attention back to the well-dressed duo, surprised, but not really, to see them together. I study them and noting the deliberate distance put between them, and the undercurrent of some kind of tension, I conclude that they're not together; no romantically at least.

They make a direct beeline to the man in the cell directly diagonal to me; Matthew Temple. An innocent man. I smile in relief. He has two daughters and a drug addict wife; he needs to get home.

Oliver does the talking, introducing him and Felicity and therefore, clarifying some things to me, "Mr. Temple, I'm Oliver and this is my EA Felicity Smoak,"

Through the bars, the two men shake hands and Mr. Temple, regardless of his confusion finds his voice, "I know who you are Mr. Queen. I'd been working for you for a good three months."

Felicity speaks up for the first time, "Call him Oliver. Mr. Queen was his father," She waves her hands around in elaborate gestures, and with her brightly painted nails, white top and pink skirt, she lights up the entire room.

I can see why Oliver has taken a liking to her. She shines brighter than the sun.

At her words, Oliver turns to her and smiles, as if they are sharing some inside joke and I smirk at the progress he is making; he can actually smile now.

"Mr. Temple, if you haven't heard, my Co-CEO, Isabel Rochev was involved with a madman raging on Starling City and I know that she used false accusations to throw many innocent executives into prison."

Temple nods and looks vaguely hopeful as Oliver continues,

"I recently got the company back, and a trusted associate—" His look of pride at Felicity suggests exactly who his trusted associate was, "has proof that you were one of these people. We just need to ask you a couple of questions so that we can get on with your release,"

Matthew Temple's elated look suddenly turns into one of panic, when he looks up, probably to thank the heavens, but catches sight of the analog clock I know is mounted on the wall across his cell.

Hesitatingly, he asks his ex-boss and his assistant, "Mr. Queen, my daughters visit for an hour every day at three and I..." Temple's eyes dart around the place in nervousness, as if him not being present will somehow take away his shot at freedom.

Oliver puts his worries to rest, "My whole afternoon is clear Mr. Temple and you're our last client. We can wait."

And true to his word, when Mr. Temple is whisked away by the guard to see his daughters, Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak seat themselves on the prison ground, opposite from each other, their backs resting on the grey cemented walls, the soles of his dress shoes making contact with the soles of her heels.

Felicity Smoak breaks the silence, not with words but with a slight cough.

Oliver is quick to take off his fancy Armani suit jacket, placing it around her shoulders and tugging her hair out, all the while softly scolding her, "You should be wearing a coat, Felicity. It's too cold out and you're going to get sick."

"Helena put on a coat. You know it saddens me to see you sick,"
"You are lucky you're hot Michael Staton or I would have you on your ass for ordering me around."
"I do it cause I love you,"
"I know. I love you too."

He's on his knees in front of her. She's curled her legs so that she can give him room, and now his knees rest against her calves. She reaches up and traces her ringed index finger under his eyes, where the dark circles are prominent.

"And you should buy yourself an apartment, or a condo, or whatever the hell you billionaire bachelors like to live in and get some proper sleep." She counters back, seemingly unaware that her fingers are still lightly tracing under his eye.

"Felicity..." Oliver starts to protest softly but she doesn't give him the chance.

"Promise me you'll try and sleep Oliver," she quietly implores him, their eyes locked on each other.

"That's enough for one night babe. You need to get some sleep,"
"Michael..."
"I love you Helena Bertinelli, and your health is my first priority. Now come to bed,"

The two of them are whispering quietly to each other after that, becoming aware of their intimate position and returning to their previous distanced one in the speed of light. The next sound we hear throughout the now quiet prison with cellmates straining to hear the couple is the growling of the stomach of one Felicity Smoak.

Oliver chuckles. It's the first time I've heard him chuckle. "I'll call Dig and tell him to meet us at Big Belly. And since Roy is most likely to go with him, I'll convince him to order for us."

Felicity beams at the prospect of food, and while her happiness is very much relatable, her smile blinds my eyes, "I want..."

She doesn't need to tell him, "...classic Big Belly Burger, no tomatoes, fries and a strawberry milkshake."

She doesn't even look shocked at the fact that Oliver Queen, notorious playboy billionaire known for his inability to keep girlfriends, remembers her order word for word.

Instead, she just teases him, "Make the fries and strawberry milkshake extra large since I know a certain billionaire who'll say he doesn't want them, but will steal mine the first chance he gets. Not that I mind you stealing my food, I can't eat all of it anyway and I like it when you're playful. But I also like you when you're not playful, I like you when you're you, I mean...you're always you but..."

"Fried shrimp, steamed rice, and a diet coke. I know."
"If I didn't know better I would call you a creep."
"Yes but you do know better Bertinelli, and you know that I love you and that I'm trying to score boyfriend points by knowing your order,"
"You're doing great babe."

I snap out of my thoughts, and when my eyes return to Temple's empty cell, I see only Oliver and no sign of Felicity.

"She went to the bathroom. They're going to meet up in the interrogation room." I snap my head in shock at the suddenness of the voice beside me only to find Amber sitting next to me, the only thing separating the two of us being the metal bars.

Seems that she's been avidly watching and listening to our favourite couple with almost an equal interest as I have.

Oliver gets up and turns around to walk in the opposite direction where the interrogation room is, which, inevitably, leads him to spot me.

I realize I'm not prepared to see him again, especially when, instead of hatred and disgust marring his face, he seems shocked and almost glad to see me as he makes his way closer towards my cell.

"Helena," He curiously calls my name, offering me a small tilt of the lips that doesn't really pass for a smile, but is enough to show that he means no harm to me.

"Hey Oliver," I say back in response, ignoring Amber's scrutinizing stare that I feel burning a hole on my back.

Oliver places his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heel once awkwardly, "How are you doing,"

I chuckle genuinely for the first time in a long time at his obvious method of small talk but decide to humour him, "Considering everything," I wave at my surroundings, "I'm ok."

And then, purely on impulse, I say, "thanks for the book," I tilt my head towards Dear Ijeawele placed on my bed.

He panics for a pure moment, confirming my suspects before trying to deny it, "I didn't..."

I interrupt him, "I've only ever told two souls about that book Oliver and one of them is dead."

He nods, and I know, somehow, that it'll be the end of our conversation, and true to my thoughts, Oliver gives me a small smile this time, a real smile and says, "It was nice seeing you, Helena."

I whisper, "You too," and watch him take a step back to leave.

And I don't know what prompts me. Maybe it was all I was witness to for the past few minutes, or maybe it was all the memories it brought me. Maybe it was my knowledge of loss or maybe it was some of the genuine feelings I had harboured for Oliver Queen long ago.

Whatever it was, it causes me to call his name and when he turns around to look at me questioningly, I whisper to him, quietly so that only the two of us can hear,

"Make sure you don't let her go."

He stares at me for a long moment before he nods, knowing exactly who we're talking about (there's probably no other 'her' worth holding onto in his mind) before walking away and not looking back.

It's then that Amber scoots up to me, surprising me with her choice of topic, "I'm not going to ask what that was because I know you're not going to tell me. But you cannot tell me that you didn't enjoy watching the clandestine flirting between boss and EA."

I smile at her, giving her a smug grin, watching her eyes narrow as I shake my head and look at the metal bars of Temple's cell.

"It's not clandestine flirting. It's love."

"YOU DON'T HAVE TO SAY I LOVE YOU TO SAY I LOVE YOU"

Helena Bertinelli knows that Oliver Queen is in love with Felicity Smoak, even if he doesn't say the words.