Chapter title: Post tenebras spero lucem

A/N: Hi, everybody. As you can see I managed to squeeze in some writing the last couple of days and so here's chapter 8 of LIAKOW. Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter even if some of the comments were a little less encouraging than usual.

Just as an FYI: I put a whole lot of thought into everything I write. Whatever happens in a chapter serves a purpose. If I hadn't written the last chap this story would be over right about now. I'm not too big on writing (or reading) happy, established ship stories. I'm not yet sure if that applies to Olicity as well, but yeah, that's just a warning that there might not be too much left of this story. I hope this chapter answers all or at least most of the questions you had about Felicity's reaction to the big reveal.

Happy reading and a fantastic weekend to all of you!

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

She was just stepping out of her bed room, dressed in sweatpants and a baggy MIT hoodie, when she heard the knock on her door. Great, who would it be now?

In the two weeks since her kidnapping, several people had visited her at her town house. The first one had been Tommy, followed by her best friend Jen, Thea and then even Moira. All of them had gotten the same answer. "I'm fine, I just need some time to process."

Thea had been a little more persistent than the others, though. Felicity didn't know why, but the youngest Queen had directly jumped to the right conclusion. "What did my idiot brother do this time?" she'd asked exasperatedly. Felicity had given her a noncommittal shrug and repeated her previous answer, even though it was abundantly clear that her sister-in-law thought there was more to it. She'd eventually dropped the topic and made Felicity promise to call her if she wanted to do some retail therapy.

Oliver hadn't stopped by. He had called and texted her, though. After two days and countless unanswered texts and declined phone calls, she'd finally texted him back. 'I need time'. He hadn't called her again, just sent her a quick text that said 'okay, whatever you need'.

That had made her feel even shittier than before. She knew that he was trying to make amends, but she just couldn't face him. Not yet.

She looked through the peep hole and took a surprised step back before opening the door with a frown.

"Diggle?"

The man in question chuckled. "I guess I'm not who you expected," he quipped.

"No, you really weren't." A beat passed. "Then again, Moira stopped by a few days ago, so I'm not sure how anything else could be a surprise anymore." She opened the door. "Come in."

Diggle followed her to the couch where he sat down next to her. "You have a nice place here," he said after taking a quick look around, only briefly halting on her Robin Hood poster above her TV.

"Thanks," she replied with a small smile, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "What are you doing here, Digg?"

He gave her a fond smile. "I wanted to see if you wanted to talk."

She frowned. "Did Oliver send you?" she asked, well aware that he and Diggle had developed a friendship or at least some kind of manly bond thing that went beyond a strict boss-employer relationship.

"No." He shook his head. "He doesn't know I'm here. I'd probably have an arrow sticking out of me if he did know."

Felicity's jaw dropped inadvertently. "Wh.. What?" she stuttered. "You know? How do you know? Why do you know?"

Diggle chuckled softly. "Yes, I know and I actually help him. I'll tell you about the how some other time."

"I can't believe this," she muttered slowly, looking at him with wide eyes and running a hand through her messy curls. Finally she got up from her seat on the couch and started pacing the floor. "I just need a minute."

Diggle nodded and remained still. Every so often, Felicity shot wary glances his way, debating what to do next. She wasn't very close to the man. In the past few months, she'd met him a few times during her morning runs on the extensive Queen estate. He'd fallen in step with her and had made amicable small talk. He'd even offered her to teach her some self-defense moves if she wanted. Maybe she should've taken him up on that, she thought wryly. But that was all there was to their relationship, small talk here and there when he was driving her somewhere or the occasional run-in in the morning.

He was a very private man and even after talking to him a few times, she didn't really know much about him. He'd served in the army before joining the private security sector after his last tour, and he'd been working for the Queens since last October. Was that how long he'd known about Oliver being The Hood? What was his role in all this?

She stopped pacing and seized him up for a moment, tilting her head to the side a little, before finally speaking, "Why? Why are you helping him? I know that I don't really know you and please don't take this the wrong way, but you seem like someone who'd be bothered by a guy killing dozens of people. And yet, you're helping him?"

Diggle nodded thoughtfully. "I was bothered. Still am sometimes. But that's one of the reasons I decided to join him, to help him. This whole thing, him going after certain people, is fueled by... emotions. It's something that he will tell you once you let him," he assured her, and Felicity nodded slowly. "In a way he's fighting a war, and from my own experience I know that war changes people. I've had to do things in the line of duty that I'm not proud of, that I wish I could take back or do differently." He paused for a moment.

"Doing this with Oliver... we're doing something good. Even if the city doesn't see it that way yet, we're making a difference. Oliver is making a difference." He considered his next words for a moment. "When you're fighting a war, you sometimes lose track of what you're doing. Killing people becomes a necessity, a means to an end. Sometimes you forget about the consequences when you pull that trigger because in that moment it's kill or be killed."

Felicity looked at him intently, waiting for him to continue. "I think Oliver was in exactly that place when I started working with him. He saw what he wanted and did whatever needed to be done to reach his objective, even if that meant killing people. I joined his one-man army because he is right: the city needs saving. And he needs someone to remind him of who he is, so that he doesn't lose himself in what he becomes when he puts that hood on. There are always casualties when you're fighting a war," he shook his head sadly. "By joining him I wanted to make sure that he wasn't doing more killing than necessary."

"Considering what I've seen, I'm not sure you're doing a good job," she said carefully, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He killed those men."

He regarded her for a moment, nodding in silent acknowledgment. "He did. I would've done the same thing." Despite her gasp, he continued, "He's different when it comes to you. I've never seen him as restless or helpless as when we were waiting for the kidnapper to contact us. And then we he finally found you, you weren't letting him near you. When the guys came in he saw a threat and most likely the cause of your closed off and frightened behavior, and he just reacted."

He let out a sigh and ran a hand over his face. "You had a panic attack, right after. I think that scared him more than anything. So again, he reacted and revealed his identity to you, hoping that you'd be calmer if you saw a familiar face."

"So you're telling me that if I hadn't had the panic attack he wouldn't have told me?" she asked, anger lacing her voice.

"No, Felicity, I'm telling you that he would've chosen a better time to tell you," Diggle retorted without missing a beat.

She took a step back, wrapping her arms around her waist. "You know that for sure?"

"With Oliver nothing is really sure, but I have gotten to know him pretty well since his return from the island and believe me when I say that he was planning on telling you soon," he said earnestly.

She's silent for a moment, considering his words. For whatever reason, she believed him. She believed that Oliver was going to tell her his secret, but did that change anything.

"Let's assume I believe you," she started. "That still doesn't change the fact that he's a killer."

He pursed his lips in disagreement. "Did you have a problem with that when you offered The Hood your help before you knew it was Oliver?"

"Yes!"

Diggle raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I did," she declared firmly. "I told him that I didn't want to be an accomplice in murdering someone."

"And yet, you helped him and offered to help him in the future. Why?"

She folded her arms over her chest, thinking about his question. It was a very valid question, she had to admit.

"He said that the people he killed deserved it and that he did was what necessary to save the city," she muttered.

"Uh-huh," Diggle mused. "And those reasons don't count anymore now that you know who he is?"

Felicity opened and closed her mouth a few times before her voice finally started working again. "No... Yes... I don't know." She let out a frustrated sigh and ran both of her hands through her hair. "He's my husband," she finally whispered.

"The guy I sleep with is the vigilante." Her eyes slammed shut, a blush creeping up her cheeks, while she brought up a hand to cover her face. "That is not... I don't mean 'sleep with' like get down to sexy times 'sleep with', but you know, we're sharing a bed, even if that was only for a couple of nights. Oh God, please tell me you signed an NDA?" she asked, stopping herself mid-ramble, peeking though the fingers covering her eyes.

"Don't worry, I keep secrets for a living," Diggle assured her.

"Clearly," she muttered under her breath and plopped down onto the couch. "What I mean is that the man I'm married to puts on a green leather suit and runs around the city killing people with a bow and arrows at night. And yes, you know, maybe it's hypocritical to say this, but while I wasn't too impressed with some random guy doing those things, I'm even less thrilled to find out that it's been Oliver all this time."

She let out another frustrated sigh. "So I'm sorry if anyone doesn't like it, but I just need some time to come to terms with the knowledge that I completely misjudged and misread the man that I..." she stopped herself again. "The man that I started to have feelings for," she finished quietly.

Diggle nodded solemnly. "Fair enough. But if you'll accept my two cents on the matter: you two should talk, because the current situation has Oliver twisted up in knots, and it's killing him to stay away and give you space when all he wants to do is explain everything to you." He stood up from the couch. "It's time for you to come home, Mrs. Queen."

Felicity followed him to the door. "For what it's worth, even if his methods are questionable, Oliver is doing real good for this city," he said just before he pulled the door shut behind him.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

It took her two more days to finally go back to the Queen Mansion. She'd taken some time to wrap her head around everything that Diggle had told her when he'd come over. After two more nights in the safety of her own four walls, she felt ready to face Oliver.

By some miracle she managed to dodge all of the Queens when she walked through the hallways on that Friday night. The only person she crossed paths with was Raisa who just gave her a warm smile and said, "Welcome home".

Only when Felicity laid her hand on the door handle, about to open the door, she realized that she was standing in front of Oliver's room. How in the world had it become the most normal thing for her to go to his room after only living with him for four days? Her hand slipped off the handle and she turned around slowly, facing the dark wood of her own door.

During her visit, Thea had told her that despite Grammy's idea to postpone her cruise until she knew everything was okay with Felicity, they'd somehow managed to convince her to go and keep her updated. So Felicity knew, that her room was indeed her room again. Why did it feel so... wrong to go back to it?

With a hollow feeling in her stomach she opened her door, stepping into the room that was supposed to be her home. She stopped in her tracks after only a couple of steps, taking in the room. It felt... off somehow. As her eyes swept over the furniture, she realized why she felt so... detached from it. All of her things were still gone. All of her little knick knacks, the few photo frames she kept, computer parts that usually cluttered every available surface. None of it was there, which could only mean that it was still in Oliver's room.

She was walking over to the freshly made bed when her eyes caught on something on the nightstand. With a slightly tilted head she closed the distance. There, on the nightstand, lay an envelope with her name ornately written on it. Who had put it there? How long had it been there? Did Oliver...?

With shaking fingers she lifted the envelope, just letting it rest in her hands for a while before she finally turned it over and opened it. She instantly knew that this wasn't Oliver's scratchy handwriting she'd seen when he was taking notes during their meeting with the lawyers. No, this was written in an elaborate, downright elegant penmanship.

My Dear Felicity,

by the time you read this, I will have left for my cruise, and since I'm not sure if I'll be able to call you anytime soon, I decided to write you this letter.

I hope you could use the time apart from us to process everything that has happened to you. And I really hope that you are doing well!

I know that not only this ordeal you went through, but also the last few months must have been difficult for you. Adjusting to married life, a new home, a new family, dealing with the public scrutiny. This lifestyle we're living certainly comes with a price.

Watching you all this time has made one thing abundantly clear: Moira made the right choice when she picked you to be Oliver's wife. Yes, I said choice. I may have been a blonde once upon a time, but not that blonde. I knew that you didn't love my grandson, the first time I saw you two together. There was just something missing between you that even your acting skills couldn't cover up.

I'm not sure why Moira chose to continue this particular Queen family tradition, but knowing her she probably had a very practical reason. But I have to admit that I agree with her choice. You may not see it yet, but you are a perfect fit for Oliver. That being said, I know that living with a man you don't love is difficult. Sometimes it will seem almost unbearable.

I know this because once upon a time I was in your position. My family was wealthy, the Queens were wealthy, so it was almost natural for the offspring of the families to be married, forming a strong alliance. Alas, I didn't love my husband, but we learned to live together, even if it never turned into the happy love story you see on TV sometimes. After Robert was born, we both fell in love with other people. Discreetly of course. This was our last resort. We had tried being together, but we simply didn't work. There were never feelings, there was never a spark between us. After a few years we became friends, best friends even, but I think we were never destined to be together.

With Moira and Robert it was different. When we introduced them to each other, there was a spark. I don't know if it was love at first sight or something akin to it, but there was definitely passion. Passion that resulted in her being pregnant not soon after. Upon hearing the good news there was never a question if they'd marry each other or not. From what I can tell, they were happy for a while, but that didn't last long. Both of them lied, both of them cheated. They kept up the facade for the public and for Oliver and Thea, of course, but I could see how unhappy they both were when they thought no-one was looking.

I'm telling you this because I want you to hang in there. Give your marriage some time, give your relationship with Oliver some time to develop. Get to know each other. This family's history has shown that indifference can turn into friendship, passion and love can turn into bitterness, for all we know, hatred could turn into the greatest of love stories.

Both of you don't see it yet, but once you look past all that animosity you two harbor for each other, there's something more. You complement each other in ways that completely amaze me. I hope that some day soon you see what I and everybody around you sees when they look at you.

I can feel that there is more to you leaving than the kidnapping. Now, I don't know what Oliver did or didn't do that made you leave, but you need to give him the chance to explain himself. Don't you think you owe him at least that? A chance?!

I will let you in on another Queen family secret. No matter who the public sees at the helm of Queen Consolidated, this family is led by its women. We're the ones keeping this family together, making sure that the legacy and traditions of the Queen family live on and prosper. We're the ones that will stop at nothing when it comes to protecting our loved ones. We're the strong ones.

And you, Felicity, are no exception to that rule!

Well, I think you've read enough of my two cents on this topic, so I'll start packing for the cruise now. And you, young lady, should go find your husband and talk to him and make little great-grand babies that I can spoil.

If you need anything call me (I'm sure you can find a satellite to hack into). Stay strong, Felicity!

Lots of love,

Grammy

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Felicity let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding when she reached the end of the letter. She stared at the words that wee swimming on the paper in her hands, only now realizing that she had tears in her eyes.

"Felicity?" the startled voice of her husband made its way through to brain. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be here, but the door was open..." he trailed off.

Her head moved up and she met his gaze. He had a garment bag slung over his left arm and held a suitcase with his right hand, looking at her with big eyes that grew worried when he took in the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, but didn't move from where he was standing in her doorway.

She swallowed and drew her eyebrows together into a frown. "Are you leaving?" she asked and ignored his question completely.

He let out a sigh and shook his head slightly, shooting a quick glance to the suitcase in his hand. "No, I actually just came back from a week-long business trip to Metropolis that Walter sent me on." He paused for a moment, pressing his lips together. "What about you? Are you... staying? Or are you picking up the rest of your things?"

There was a sadness in his tone that she'd never heard before. She hated it, she decided quickly. And she hated the fact that she was the reason for it even more.

"No," she shook her head and her breath stilled when he saw disappointment wash over his face, before she realized what she'd said. "I mean no, I'm not here to pick up my stuff. I'm..." she swallowed hard. "I'm home," she whispered.

He stared at her for a full ten seconds (she counted!), his mouth slightly agape, a small furrow forming on his forehead. And then he suddenly just dropped his things to the floor and closed the distance between them in a few long strides. Before she knew what was happening he'd already pulled her up from the bed, engulfing her in an almost bone crushing hug. After the initial shock had passed, she wrapped her arms around his back, moving swiftly under his suit jacket, gripping him just as tightly as he was holding her, while she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

She inhaled deeply, taking in his unique scent, feeling their chests rise and fall in unison, and his heart beating just as rapidly as hers. Now she was home.

She didn't know how long they stood there, just wrapped up in each other. She didn't care, as long as it didn't stop. At some point Oliver's fingers had begun tracing patterns over her lower back. Only after a minute or so she realized it was the same thing over and over again.

"What are you writing?" she mumbled into his neck. With a small smile she realized that he shuddered a little when her lips moved against his skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She concentrated on his fingers again, but couldn't make out the letters. "In what language?"

"Russian," he said, and it was her turn to shudder. What was it with this man and Russian?

"I'm sorry, too," she murmured and tilted her head, so she could see his face. His eyes were closed, as she swept hers over his neatly trimmed beard, resisting the sudden urge to run her fingers over it. "We need to talk."

His eyes flew open and he leaned back slightly so he could lock his eyes with hers without loosening his grip on her. "I know," he agreed, but made no move to let go.

She rested her head against him again, just enjoying his warmth and the feeling of his muscles playing under her fingertips. For the first time in two and a half weeks she felt truly safe.

After what felt like an eternity, she reluctantly loosened her almost desperate grip on him. He did the same and she took a tentative step back, instantly missing the comfort of his arms. But she knew they had to talk and that would only happen if they sat down and stopped touching each other. His warmth and muscle-y goodness were just too damn distracting.

"I know you wanna talk," he started. "I wanna talk, too. But I've been stuck in meetings and then on the plane the whole day, and I'd just really like to take a quick shower and eat something," he let out in a rush, his tone apologetic.

She gave him small smile, nodding her head. "I haven't had dinner either, so how about I order a pizza and you hop into the shower?"

"Sounds like a plan!"

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Forty-five minutes later, Felicity carried the pizza box, her favorite pizzeria had just delivered, through the empty hallways of the mansion and after some debating knocked on Oliver's door. It wouldn't make this any more comfortable to do this in her basically empty room.

The door swung open and she was greeted by a sheepishly smiling Oliver. Just like her, he'd changed into dark gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. She forced down the wave of lust that swept over her at the sight of the very snug black t-shirt, accentuating his muscular chest. His hair was still a little wet and was in a wild disarray that definitely didn't make her want to run her fingers through it. At all!

She swallowed hard and shook herself out of her stupor. "Dinner's ready," she managed to say in a more or less steady voice, as she rattled the box in her hands invitingly.

He stepped back and motioned for her to come in, leading her towards the sitting area in front of the TV. It should've been awkward. Eating and talking before the Big Talk, that may well change the direction of their relationship. And yet, it wasn't awkward. Conversation came easily when they started eating, catching each other up on the past two weeks. Felicity told him about a particularly nasty IT problem she'd had to deal with and he told her about his week of talking to LexCorp in Metropolis. It was easy and yet both of them knew what was coming up next.

They'd discarded the empty pizza box and Oliver poured both of them a glass of wine. "So..." he started carefully as they both leaned back against the back of the couch, facing each other, but with some space between them.

Felicity folded her legs under her, playing with the stem of her glass. "So..." she echoed, before a few seconds of silence engulfed them.

"I'm sorry," they blurted out at the same time and just stared at each other in shock.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Felicity," he quickly said, his voice low and pained. "I'm the one that fucked up. Big time"

She placed her glass on the coffee table and stretched out a hand, shooting him an encouraging smile, waiting patiently as he scrunched up his forehead until he finally reached out his own hand to place it in her opened palm. She ran her thumb over the soft skin of the back of his hand before intertwining their fingers.

"I shouldn't have run," she said with a sad smile. "No matter how... unconventional our relationship is, that's not how you solve problems. That's how you create even more."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she quickly squeezed his fingers to stop him. "What I said... I didn't... I was a bitch and I didn't think straight."

"No, you were right about the things you said," he sighed. "Doesn't change the fact that hearing them and seeing you walk away hurt like hell."

"Oliver," she breathed out.

"I deserved it," he sad quickly, self-loathing lacing his voice.

"Hey," she whispered and tugged on his fingers, prompting him to look up at her. "You saved me that night, I don't know what they... what would've happened to me if you hadn't been there. And I never even thanked you for it."

"You were in shock and-"

"Oliver," she cut him off. "Thank you." She looked straight at him, trying to convey all her emotions in just one gaze.

He swallowed hard and nodded. "I was worried sick that night after Tommy called me. And then I saw the video, hearing your screams..." he trailed off and she squeezed his fingers again, trying to give him some strength. "Until Diggle's contact found the IP address for the laptop, I couldn't do anything but wait. I've never felt so helpless in my life."

"I know how that feels," she whispered sadly. Seeing his questioning gaze, she continued, "When I woke up the first time, I had been given a drug that was apparently some kind of paralyzing agent. I felt everything, the cold, the pain, but I couldn't move a muscle. I don't think I've ever been as terrified in my life as when the two guys walked in."

"Did they..." he started, unable to speak the words. She looked at him and saw his tightly clenched jaw and the tortured pain in his eyes.

"No," she said, her voice shakier than she would've liked. "They... touched me and I think they would've... gone further, but their boss interrupted them and ordered them to stop."

She saw a wave of relief wash over his features, but the tortured look didn't dissipate. She scooted closer and brought up the hand that wasn't tangled with his up to his face, running her fingers through his light scruff. She couldn't help but smile softly when he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

His free hand came up to cover hers, holding it in place as he turned his head and pressed his lips against the soft skin of her palm. "I almost lost you," he whispered, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke, sending bolts of lightning through her body.

"We just agreed to give us a chance, to try and be together, and just like that you were ripped from my grasp. And there was nothing I could do about it because I wasn't even there to protect you," he said bitterly.

"Oliver, don't do this. Don't blame yourself for something that had nothing to do with you."

His eyes flew open. "You're my wife."

"True," she amended with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips at the way those few words managed to make her insides go all gooey. "But whoever was behind this made it clear that this had nothing to do with you or your family. He was trying to use me as leverage to get my mother to do something. This wasn't your fault."

He nodded slowly, but didn't seem convinced. For a while they just sat in silence, her fingers languidly moving over his cheek, while his fingertips ran restlessly over the pulse point on her wrist.

"Tell me about The Hood," she whispered after a few minutes.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Anything. Everything," she said quietly, searching his gaze. "Why do you do it?"

He took a deep breath. "When the Gambit sank, I wasn't the only one who survived. My dad and the first mate managed to launch a life raft, they fished me out of the water." He stopped and turned his head, eyes glazing over. "We drifted around for days with no rescue in sight, our food supplies were starting to run low and it was clear that not all of us would survive, so my father made a choice. "

Felicity couldn't help but gasp in shock.

Oliver closed his eyes and continued, "He told me that he wasn't the man I thought he was, that he had failed the city, and that I had to survive so I could right his wrongs. He pulled out a gun, shot the first mate and then he killed himself," he whispered.

"Oh, Oliver," she cried out and launched herself at him, her arms flying around his neck, dragging her body into his lap.

He immediately slung his hands around her waist, keeping her in place, burying his face in her neck. She felt his breath coming out in short, quick puffs against her skin. Her fingers found their way into the short strands of his hair, her fingernails scratching softly over his scalp.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Oliver," she said softly.

He took in a shuddering breath before lifting his head, searching her eyes. "He gave his life, so I could live, so I could repair what he and others had broken." His thumbs ran circles over the skin of her hip where he t-shirt had ridden up. "When I buried him on the island, I found a little notebook that he carried on his person. There were names in it. So many names of Starling City's elite."

"That's who you're going after." It was more a statement than a question even though there was uncertainty in her voice.

He nodded solemnly. Suddenly she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. "My mother's name is in there."

"Yes," he breathed out, cupping her face gently.

She adjusted her position in his lap so that her knees were on either side of his hips, effectively straddling him, completely ignoring how incredibly intimate the new position was.

"Why?" she wondered out loud. "I mean, what have all those people done to end up in that notebook?"

He shook his head slightly. "I don't know. I haven't really found anything that connects them. They all have skeletons in their closets, from embezzling money to extortion, murder even. You name any crime and someone from the list is guilty of committing it."

"The Undertaking," she blurted out, remembering the curious words from her kidnapper.

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"That's what the man who took me said. He talked about my mother trying back out of something called The Undertaking."

"What the hell is The Undertaking?" he asked absentmindedly, probably not even realizing that he had said the words out loud.

"I don't know," she answered anyway. "But I want to help you find out."

His eyes widened. "What?"

She took a deep breath, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "I want to help you," she said with conviction. "Now I know why you're doing this. You're trying to save this city and I don't want you to carry the burden your father put on your shoulders alone. I want to help you, but only under one condition."

"And what's that?"

"The body count. I can't... That's something I can't deal with," she admitted.

Oliver nodded slowly. "I'm working on different kinds of arrows." Seeing her eye brow raise in question, he elaborated, "Stun arrows, tranq arrows, something like that. Something that lets me incapacitate people instead of going for a kill shot."

Felicity sighed. "Does it bother you?"

"Of course, Felicity, I'm not a monster," he said, unable to hide the hurt in his tone.

Her hands flew to his face, cupping his cheeks gently. "No, no, no. That's not what I meant. God, I suck at this," she exclaimed exasperatedly, slamming her eyes shut for a second. "Diggle came by to talk to me, to explain some things." She ignored his sharp intake of breath and continued, "He said that when you're fighting a war you start seeing killing as a means to an end, that you stop seeing the act of killing someone for what it is: taking a life."

"Felicity," he breathed out. "Every single life that I have ended... I carry that burden with me every day. I told you before, I don't do this for fun. I do what is necessary."

"And I'm asking you to find a different way," she replied defiantly.

She could see how his jaw clenched, ready to get into a massive argument. And then his face suddenly relaxed, the fight leaving him. "Okay," he whispered. "Just promise me you won't leave again."

She tilted her head to the side slightly, her eyes sweeping over his worried face. With a smile, she leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. "I promise," she mumbled against his lips.

For a few minutes they just stayed like that, Felicity straddling his lap, cupping his face with her hands, while his fingers crept under her shirt on her waist, tracing lazy patterns over her soft skin. Their lips were barely an inch apart, breaths mingling.

"I missed you, Mrs. Queen," he murmured.

She huffed out a laughter. "I can feel that, Mr. Queen," she said, biting her bottom lip, and rolled her hips against his, eliciting a groan from Oliver.

"Don't start something you won't finish," he growled.

Felicity just smiled cheekily and scooted a little away from his growing erection which prompted him to let out another groan. Frustrated this time.

"I think I'll stick to tiramisu induced happy endings for now," she replied and made a move to get off his lap entirely.

Before she could even lift her leg, she found herself flying through the air. She let out a startled shriek when her back landed on the couch, Oliver hovering over her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, forcing him closer.

She blinked a couple of times. "That was way hotter than it should be," she breathed out.

He just shot a her a cocky smirk and closed the distance between their lips. She couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her lips at the sensation of his mouth moving against hers all while he ground their hips together, hitting just the right spot through both of their sweatpants.

"Oliver," she moaned loudly, when he found a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, his fingers creeping up her back towards the clasp of her bra. Somehow, with everything else going on he never stopped the lazy roll of his hips.

He started peppering countless kisses from her neck over her collar bone to the v cut out of her shirt. He was driving her insane, making it incredibly hard to think straight when his lips were doing that.

"Oliver," she tried again, using her slightly shaky hands to pull on his head. "We need to stop."

His lips froze where they were latched onto the skin of her right breast. "What?" he breathed out against the damp skin, making goosebumps appear all over her body.

She tugged harder on his head and he let himself be dragged back up her body so that their faces were only an inch apart.

"I´m glad we finally talked and I want this," she said and let her hands drop to his waist. "God knows I want this, but not now. I don´t want to jump into this. I think we´re bot too emotional and raw right now to take this step. What's a few more days after all this time, right?"

Oliver groaned but nodded his head. "You're right," he sighed. "But I have some conditions."

"What kind of conditions?" she asked with a playful frown.

"You're sleeping in here. In our bed."

"Done."

"You'll be staying in here. No more separate rooms."

"Done."

"I get cuddle privileges."

She raised an amused eyebrow. "Done."

"I get to kiss you whenever I want," he said and dropped a quick kiss to her lips to emphasize his point.

"Done."

"You sleep naked."

"Oliver," she said sternly and pinched his side.

He huffed out a laugh and leaned down for another kiss. "Sorry, just checking if you're actually listening."

She scraped her fingernails over his back. "I was listening. Is that all?"

"One more," he murmured. "I want to take you away from here for a while. Just for few days, just the two of us."

"Hmm," she hummed in agreement. "What do you have in mind?"

He grinned down at her. "Next week is the 4th of July. How about we spent a long weekend at our house in the Hamptons?"

"That sounds perfect." She reached her head up to meet him for a long kiss.

"Now," she said when they parted. "When are you gonna make use of your cuddling privileges?"

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

A/N: Thoughts? Too fluffy too soon? Does everybody understand now why I let Felicity react the way that she did at the end of the last chapter? Let me know what you think!

Title translation: After darkness, I hope for light