AN: Thank you for reading and reviewing! Big thanks to ProfJMarie for her help with this chapter...boy, I needed it.

Chapter Two

Not going home to her was a special kind of torture. He was used to his body aching at the end of a night fighting whatever version of darkness awaited him in the shadows of his city, but nothing could have prepared him for the loneliness and the physical toll that it exacted. It dogged him as he slid one-handed down zip-lines he'd anchored in concrete walls and he felt its weight when he snapped each arrow into position and then released them into flesh and bone. It wasn't getting better. He didn't miss her any less. She was his first thought upon waking, his last before falling asleep and when he inevitably woke during the night, he reached his hand across the cool sheets and allowed himself to believe she was still there next to him. Sometimes it worked and he'd fall back to sleep, happy in his delusion, but more often he stared up at the ceiling and listened to the in-and-out of his every breath until the sun rose.

Years spent sleeping at the mercy of the elements, on mud, on branches, on cold and unforgiving concrete floors, on flea-infested camp beds and still, when he finally made it home after those five years and climbed into his own bed, he knew he wasn't home. He didn't know what home meant to him after all he'd seen and done, until he recognised in it Felicity. And honestly, long before they became what he'd now lost, she was home to him. Home was in the way she smiled at him, which usually never failed to influence the arrangement of his own lips, the way she would instinctively nudge him out of her way when he got too close to her bank of computers, the way she chewed on one of the many colourful pens she kept in plentiful supply as he powered his way up the salmon ladder, never hiding the fact that she liked to watch. And without her, without her as his home, he was truly lost.

Oliver sometimes caught Diggle staring at him, since Felicity had left the team, and he caught the disappointment cast on his friend's otherwise usually workmanlike expression. In those moments Oliver kept his own head down, his face turned away from judgment. He was more than grateful that Diggle had so far had the good grace and sense enough to keep his thoughts to himself because the last thing he wanted was for the error of his ways to be placed before him by a man who understood just what those errors meant to him. Oliver wasn't blind; he knew Diggle and Felicity shared a bond that was quite distinct from him. Theirs was a friendship forged in the dark and isolating secrecy of the foundry, but which easily flourished once they made it above ground. They were family, the three of them. And while Oliver knew that John loved them both, he'd never doubt that Felicity and Diggle were better friends to one another.

He ground to a stop on the edge of a rooftop. Standing tall out of habit, he surveyed the streets below and willed the cacophonic noise of a still-awake city to drown out the memory of her words, words which were spoken long ago but which kept rolling around in his head: "I don't want to be a woman that you love." She was a woman he loved, a woman who knew better, but had trusted him anyway. He never deserved it.

"Boss, we done here?"

Oliver tapped the sensor on his chest and replied in the affirmative. "I'll hand these guys over to Captain Lance on my way back. All quiet here now. Go home, Spartan."

"Will do. Spartan, out."

It had been a quiet week, which was exactly what he didn't need. Now that Darhk was off the streets, the ghosts had dissolved into the shadows and Star City breathed freely again. He should be pleased, but he was spoiling for a fight, for a punishing flurry of fists and kicks, anything but this stillness. He'd been on patrol alone for the past few nights because things were so quiet that he'd told Thea and Laurel to stay home and take a much needed rest. Diggle had manned the comms because his friend had refused to let Oliver operate completely on his own, but that had been the worst part. Every time he heard the split-second crackle before a voice sounded in his ear, he stupidly held his breath, waiting for it to be hers.

He had no idea where she was. But he knew where she wasn't. He'd checked in at Palmer Tech; she hadn't been there all week. And she wasn't with Donna. Thea and Laurel hadn't heard from her and he was pretty confident that they'd tell him if they had. And unless Dig was lying to him, neither he nor Lyla knew where she was. Felicity had withdrawn $10,000 from her bank account the night she'd walked out of the loft but since then, they'd been no activity on any of her cards. She hadn't used public transport or taken a cab after taking the one that had dropped her at Palmer Tech that same evening. Every time he got a moment to himself, he sat and tried to make her computers do what he needed them to do. Hour after hour and nothing, and all the while he knew that this made him even more of an asshole, because the least he could do was give her space. He'd tried lying to himself, rationalising that this intrusion into her life was necessary in order to keep her safe, but he knew it was also because he just wanted to see her again.

Oliver stepped back from the edge of the roof and sighed, a rueful smile playing on his lips, because the irony was not lost on him – the only person who could find Felicity was Felicity herself.

~O~

The warm evening winds swept towards her, carried on the peaks of the endless slow-lapping waves. She felt the late-afternoon sun caress her bikini-clad skin and the slight breeze flicked her hair lightly against her cheek. She was surrounded by beauty everywhere she cared to look. The blue sea sparkled in front of her, its deep glittering waters revealed clear in the shallows where she sat; her teal-painted toes digging into the heavy sand. Reaching for the tall glass at her side, which she'd half-buried in the wet sand to keep its contents cool, she brought it to her lips and took a long drink. Was this her fourth banana daiquiri or her fifth? Honestly, it could be her tenth because everything aside from the breathtakingly lucid view was fuzzy and distant. This was all she needed – a sight for cried-out eyes and numbness in a glass.

She felt something approaching peace as the ocean lapped at her ankles and filled the holes she'd dug with her toes. She knew the sand would scratch and tarnish the nail polish on her toes but that was a small price to pay for how good it felt to actually feel again. She felt the cool water. She felt the weight of the sand on the tops of her feet. She felt her calf muscles stretching as she wormed her feet deeper still. Since Curtis had performed his miracle she couldn't seem to keep still; being able to move her legs and feet was still new to her and there was a part of her that worried that this ability would be taken away from her again. Felicity took another sip. The cocktail was ridiculously sweet, but the generous helping of ice had watered it down enough so that it was all-too-easy to drink. Another sip followed, then another.

And she wasn't thinking about him at all. Nuh uh. Not going to happen. Well, okay, technically it just did, but that was the last time. Until the next time.

She buried the almost-empty glass back in the makeshift cooler and slid her arms out behind her, anchoring herself semi-upright in the sand. Her head fell to the right and rested against her warmed shoulder. She could smell her sunscreen and she smiled. Was there a more reminiscent smell; she'd always loved it. It reminded her of vacations she'd taken with her two best friends from high school. Her mom was always working and her father was long gone, but she could always rely on Tara and Alex to save her from the stifling desert heat during those long summer breaks. She'd tag along with Alex to her parent's holiday place in Monterey or go with Tara and her family to Laguna Beach or San Diego. She wondered what they were doing now. Tara was probably still teaching math somewhere and Alex was probably doing something amazing. She'd let them go too easily. The three of them had been inseparable in high school – Tara was the sensible one, Alex was the risk-taker and Felicity was…what was she, the brainy good friend with the crazy mom? Speaking of her mom, she really needed to call her tonight. Mmm… She breathed out long and slow. Mmm…she was so deliciously comfortable…and kinda sleepy. The sun felt wonderful on her skin. Star City and Vegas felt like whole lifetimes ago. And that sunny smell…mmm…it was the smell of hot days and balmy nights. It was the scent that clung to her clothes that night when she and Oliver had slept on the beach in Bali. Nope. Enough of that!

She concentrated on her breathing, mimicking the movement of the ocean swirling around her feet – deep and sure, long and slow, in and out. Her mom was right – this was exactly what she needed. She made another mental note, and stored it in that place where you file drunken musings in hopes you'll recall them again, to definitely call her mom when she made it off the beach. She'd tell her that she was right. The words wouldn't even stick in her throat this time.

Once she'd left Oliver at the loft – great, she's doing it again; what's it been, a whole minute since the last time she thought about him– and called for a taxi to take her to Palmer Tech, her next call was to her mom. She needed someone to tell her that she would be okay because honestly, she was unravelling so fast she feared she'd ask the driver to turn around and take her back. Donna answered on the second ring; she never kept Felicity waiting. When she heard the call connect, she had tried to keep her voice steady, controlled, but in uttering a solitary "Hi", she had clearly given the game away. Donna Smoak may not have stuck it out at school long enough to get her high school diploma but she was unfailingly astute and the best reader of people that Felicity had ever met. It was her superpower.

"What's wrong, Felicity?"

"We…Oliver and me. I left, mom. I think we're over."

"Where are you, honey?"

"In a cab. I'm heading into work."

"No, you're not. You're coming here."

"I'm not really up to seeing Captain Lance right now."

"He'll understand. I'm sure he'll give us some space. Baby, come here, 'k?"

"I can't."

"Then I'll come to you. I'm leaving right now, baby."

Felicity knew that tone and she knew she had to act fast or else her mom would do exactly that, and she just couldn't handle seeing her. It had always been that way. When Felicity was most upset she needed to be on her own. No way she was going to repeat past mistakes. Case in point: she was so lonely her first semester at MIT that she'd foolishly told her mom that she was finding it tough to make new friends and that she didn't think her roommate liked her. The very next day, Donna Smoak was knocking at her door, dressed to the nines, and upon seeing her daughter, enveloped her in a tight hug in full view of everyone on her dorm room floor. Yeah. Fun! Okay, so that hug was everything to her in that moment, but it was ultimately counterproductive. Her mom couldn't stay longer than the weekend and as soon as the whirlwind that was Donna Smoak had left, Felicity felt more alone than ever.

"Mom, if I see you, I'll crumble…you know I will…and right now I need to keep it together."

"Okay, then tell me what you need."

"I need you to tell me that I'm going to be okay. I need you tell me that I'm strong, like you."

"Baby girl, you are the strongest person I know. Come on, you manage a bigilleon-dollar company and you're always the smartest damn person in the room. You are kind and honest and good. You'll be fine. Because whatever happened between you and Oliver, if any two people can have a happy ending…"

"What if it can't be fixed?" Felicity cut in. "What if it's broken forever? God, I don't know what to do. I can't think straight."

"He didn't cheat on you, did he? Because if that MAN DARED…"

"No, mom. He didn't cheat. He…he lied to me about something really important."

"And you don't know if you can forgive him."

"He doesn't trust me, not like he should. I can't marry someone whose instinct is always to keep secrets. And now all I keep thinking is that he's like dad and that I should've known better."

"Felicity, Oliver is nothing like your father. Trust me."

"Isn't he? At heart, isn't he? He lied about something that I had every right to know. And if he can do it once, he'll do it again. He doesn't let me in, and it's just like how dad used to be. He always keeps pieces of himself out of reach. I don't think he knows how to be any other way. And, mom, I want more than that. I deserve more than that."

"Have you told him how you feel, or did you just walk out?"

"I told him. And now I just want to be…not here." She couldn't stop the tears then. They were wet and noisy and the only thing that stopped her from losing her mind was the sound of her mom's reaching her, soothing her, down the phone. She listened, cell phone pressed tight to her ear; to her mom telling her that she would survive this all the way to Palmer Tech, and by the time she reached her office and ended the call, they had come up with a plan. This plan. It was only after she'd boarded her flight to St. Lucia that she realised that she'd forgotten to tell her mom that she could walk again. Damn it. She'd be paying for that oversight for years to come.

She HAD to remember to call her mom when she made it back to her room. Felicity, this is important – call mom. Do not forget. Do not forget…mmm…so tired. And thirsty. Her drink was mostly melted ice now; a fruit-speared cocktail umbrella rested against the side of the tall glass and it was an altogether sorrier looking thing than when the stupidly handsome barman had presented it to her. If only she could be bothered to move, she'd walk the short distance to the beach bar and order another. Actually, perhaps it was a blessing that she was suddenly utterly exhausted – she wasn't drunk enough to think she was fine; the cocktails were definitely taking their toll. She rested her back against the sand, now lying flat out, and stretched, languid and oblivious to everyone else on the beach. She felt blissfully alone. Her only company the ocean and the mattress of sand supporting her. Closing her eyes, she adjusted to the red hue caused by the sun's still strong rays and wondered why things felt brighter with her eyes closed.

She couldn't help it, she was quite tipsy, you know: Oliver's face, smiling, full of love for her penetrated the rosy brightness and made her shiver; her eyes snapped open. Damn it! Yeah, she needed to get her ass of this beach and into a shower. Laying here was not helping her mood and offered little in the way of distractions. She'd take a long shower and cover herself in that heavenly body cream they provided in the room. Then she would spend at least half an hour choosing which out of the few outfits she'd purchased at the airport before boarding her flight to wear down to dinner. She could maybe string out perusing the dinner menu for ten minutes before selecting something, and really, it didn't matter what she chose, it was bound to be delicious. Actually, she might see if Rosa was free to join her for dinner and then after play a few rounds of poker with her new friend in the piano bar. See. She had plenty to do. There wasn't even time to think about Oliver. Oh crap. She was a lost cause.

~O~

He cherished the feel of the tumbler of scotch in his hand. There had been a moment or two when he doubted if he'd ever again experience the burning sweetness as it slipped down his throat or the comfort of holding a perfectly weighted-bottom glass in his hand. Small things, really. He needn't have second-guessed himself, which was really quite unlike him, because three weeks into his ridiculously long sentence, he strolled out of the Iron Heights and back to a civilisation he recognised.

He ordered a second drink and it was placed on the table next to his high-backed rattan chair just as she walked into the large, plush lobby. He observed her reflection in the gilded mirror hanging on the wall opposite his chair, certain that he could see her without her being able to see him. She looked good. Healthy. Strong again. He could see her mother in her, he supposed – something in the way she held herself – but that was all, thank goodness. He preferred her natural dark hair to the dyed blonde; he wondered if it was her way of being closer to Donna, to home, or simply something women did. Either way, it was irrational.

Taking another sip of scotch, he continued watching as an elderly woman approached Felicity and kissed her on the cheek. The stranger appeared to be wearing a multi-coloured tent. The vast piece of material ballooned at her feet, which were unsuitably bare for a hotel of this calibre, and aside from her head and hands, she was overwhelmed in the vulgar pattern. He was surprised to see Felicity return the kiss. Who was this woman? He'd expected she'd be on her own; this was a potential complication that he didn't need. The two women left the bustling lobby together and walked outside to the large terrace which wrapped around the back of the hotel and which presented guests with an uninterrupted view of the Caribbean Sea. Shortly after, a waiter dressed in starched white trousers and a similarly crisp short-sleeved shirt followed in their path, carrying two glasses of what looked like champagne cocktails on a silver tray. He watched as Felicity accepted the redder of the two drinks. Seeing an easy opportunity open up before him, he stopped the waiter as he made his return trip and enquired what the two women were drinking, saying that his wife was fond of champagne cocktails.

"Good evening, sir. Yes, one of the ladies is drinking a Kir Royale and the other ordered a Barbotage."

"Of course, I've heard of a Kir Royale – that's the one with crème de cassis, isn't it?" He asked, already cognisant of the answer, his eyes again darting to the terrace where Felicity was laughing at something her companion was saying.

"Yes, the younger lady is drinking the Kir Royale. It's a classic. Would Sir like to try one, or perhaps I can order one for your wife."

"Oh no, thank you. My wife is still getting ready, but I'll be sure to order one for her when she makes it down for dinner."

"Well then, can I bring you another?" The waiter nodded at the mostly-full glass on the table.

"Yes, I think I have time for another before dinner and besides, I have this view to admire."

"It's the best on the island, sir."

"Yes. I believe it is."