Hey all! The response to this story has been amazing - thank you for reading, reviewing, following, favouriting and enjoying! Sorry it took me a little longer to get this chapter up; life got pretty busy all of a sudden. Anywho, I hope you like what you read! I'm having so much fun writing for these two :)

Alas, I do not own Arrow.


It had been a month since Oliver had seen Felicity at the café.

Thirty days of trying to give her space, of trying to carry on as if everything was normal, of trying not to let his heart run away from him again. It beat with more purpose now than he thought imaginable, every pump a vow that something better was out there for him. If only he let himself believe that.

She said she needed time - and he could do that. He'd give her anything she needed; the promise of something in the end enough to keep him ticking on. The only thing about time was that it was flexible; bending and shaping so that one day it could fly by, scenes and moments speeding by in the blink of an eye, and the next it could drag to the point where it seems as though it stands still.

Oliver's life was a fine balance of the two. His night activities kept his mind active and off her for a while with fending off hardened criminals pretty much the only thing he could truly focus on, but the days sputtered on in pieces and chunks and endless board meetings that seemed to always hark down to figures and financial plans.

Just another one of those perks of being CEO…

It was during the day when, outside of his own accord, his thoughts drifted to her as if they had separated themselves from every other one crowded in his mind and floated off into a world of their own - their own sliver of peace away from the chaos that defined his life.

It would be so easy to get in the elevator and go down eighteen floors to see her; all it would take was a press of a button and there she'd be probably dressed in something colourful, her hair strung high in a ponytail, glasses teetering on the bridge of her nose and a pen sandwiched between her teeth. Even the image of her tapping furiously on the keys at her computer drew a smile from him. It was those little quirks of hers that enraptured him the very first time he met her and he was glad to learn that those hadn't faded over time.

Yet he couldn't do it. The confliction, the sheer confusion of feelings, was too great to bear. He had seen it written all over her face, shimmering in her eyes when she looked back at him, as though years of hardships and anger and hatred burned through every wall he had erected and singed his core – the only part of him left untainted by his ordeal, the part touched solely by his love for her. The betrayal weighed heavily on her to this day like it physically affected her every movement and he sunk himself into a pool of self-frustration knowing that while he was certainly not the only cause of it, he contributed enough to her strain.

But when he held her…everything fell away.

And he felt that relief seep through her too, igniting all of his nerves at once. Feelings like that sparked hope though, and he understood that he couldn't jump ahead and envision something that possibly could never happen for him - nothing hurt more than the cruel taste of disappointment; that plunging feeling that tinted everything with shades of bleak.

"Still daydreamin' about Blondie?"

Oliver shook his head, rattling around the musings as he focused back on his friend and partner who was giving him a rather disapproving look. "Sorry, I was…someplace else."

The foundry was eerily quiet; the whirring from the computer system the only noise to be heard apart from the squeak of the chair against the ground.

Diggle levelled him with one look, his eyebrow quirked. "You know Oliver you're always someplace else these days. Why don't you just go and see her? It'd make my job a hell of a lot easier."

Oh he did not want to talk about this. He appreciated that John was only merely voicing his own questions and yes, maybe his focus could have been a little sharper, but he wasn't allowing it to mess with his job in the city. That was something he was adamant about the moment he laid eyes on her again; his mission couldn't afford to be compromised by his feelings – he couldn't afford to be reckless anymore, not when he had another reason to fight.

"She said she needed space – I can't just go barging down to the IT department; she'll never talk to me again." A long drawn sigh escaped his lips and he leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. "And her name's Felicity," he added as an afterthought, letting the distaste for the nickname shine through his pinched features.

"I'm not talking about going down there and laying all your feelings on the table because, frankly, that'd only make your situation worse." Digg chuckled as if picturing the scene. Oliver rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about going down there and asking her for help."

The man jerked upright, confused. "Help?" he echoed.

"With this…" Digg pointed to bullet-ridden laptop on the desk, "I'm not too bad with computers but man, I've been at this for days and I can't recover anything. And I know you can't because I saw you almost fling it across the room yesterday so don't try to spin that crap with me." He nudged Oliver's knee, forcing him to look at him. "I'm not saying you should tell her who you really are but if she's half as good as you've made her out to be, then we really need her help. Otherwise we're screwed. Plus, it'd give you an actual reason to talk to her which can't hurt."

As if crime being at an all-time high wasn't already enough for him to deal with, Hood copycats had begun terrorizing the city on a fairly regular basis. They travelled in a pack, dropping in and out of all kinds of social events, targeting high profile members of Starling and killing innocents in the process. They claimed to be rectifying wrongs, absolving the city of evil, ridding their neighbourhoods of those they deemed ignorant to the growing plight of the people in the wake of the Undertaking, and had decided that action – nonsensically violence and murder to be exact – was the only way to achieve it. The Hood was hardly a favourite around town and this new band of vigilantes served only to add fuel to the fire. However, finding them wasn't proving so easy and neither was figuring who was next on their hit list.

It was a miracle they got the laptop in the first place. On the tail of a police lead, Oliver stumbled across what appeared to be, or well what at least used to be, their base for operation. A shoot-out ensued once they caught wind of his presence which resulted in the majority of them fleeing the scene, leaving a shot-up laptop and several fatalities in their wake. By the time the cops showed up, all evidence of them had long gone aside from the bodies slumped on the ground. They were evidently clever enough to move their headquarters elsewhere following the showdown leaving the SCPD back at square one, but he and Digg had something to work with: one bullet-ridden laptop.

If only they could get it to work.

Oliver rose to his feet, his back to the man as he rolled his shoulders, his jaw ticking in chagrin. "I'm not dragging her into this," he ground out, the harsh sound of his words reverberating around him. "She can't be touched by what I do. I've already done enough to her."

"So, what, you're just gonna leave out this teeny tiny detail of your life if and when you reconnect? Sounds like a solid foundation to build your relationship on," he scoffed. "If that's what you want then that's fine, Oliver; you're a big boy, you don't need anyone telling you what you should or shouldn't do. But look man, this girl has got some hold over you – maybe it's just guilt, I don't know – but it's eating away at you. It won't disappear until you make some kind of move. And if you don't know what to do yet, then don't tell her anything about who you really are; it's your secret to tell and it has the potential to change everything about the way we operate so I understand your reluctance, I do." The man circled around Oliver so that he was facing him, his hands raised in the air in surrender. "All I'm saying though is that you have to start thinking like the Hood instead of Oliver Queen, the lovesick boy. What would the Hood do right now?" Oliver dropped his stare. "He'd try damn hard to get answers," Diggle filled in for him. "If this laptop has clues as who their next target is, then we have to everything we can to get it to work. Think about that."

Oliver opened his mouth to retort, to argue, but all that came out was a quiet plea, "Digg…"

Moments of silence passed between them until his partner finally sighed, the sound heavy. Yet understanding hung in his eyes. "I'll keep trying," he said, clapping his shoulder as he moved past him back to the desk.

Oliver closed his eyes and wished that life was simpler, that there was some kind of manual he could read that would offer him options or answers or directions, that some infinite wisdom would somehow be bestowed on him so that he could make the right choices, the right decisions, know the right paths to take. Sometimes he felt like he was walking around blind; looking but not really seeing.

But this was the life he chose. This was the life he led. And it was filled with a darkness so intense that even he was perturbed by it.

Dragging Felicity into the grim reality of what he did day in, day out, couldn't work. What he did was dangerous and anyone in his orbit could get hurt. He wouldn't let that happen – no, he couldn't let that happen.

From behind him, Diggle spoke up again as if reading his train of thought. "Oliver, it's okay to be afraid you know. You don't have to have all the answers and you definitely don't have to pretend like you have it all together all the time."

Oliver spun around, arms outstretched. "I can't just let her into this part of my life! She'll never…" he trailed off, pursing his lips. "She'll never look at me the same way again."

"Like I said, you don't have to tell her that you go around wearing a green hood and shooting arrows," he reiterated. "But I've told you before and I'll tell you again: what you do, Oliver, is good. I know you don't believe that and you don't see it, but it's the truth. Those copycats? What they do is wrong. You're not on some crazy vengeance crusade; you're on a mission to save your city. Some might call that noble; others might even call it heroic." Resting an arm on the desk, he looked up at him knowingly. "You know, sometimes it's easy to get carried away with the dark thoughts in your head – trust me, I know them well; but there comes a certain point in life when you can't let your past define your future. Oliver I don't know what exactly happened to you during those five years. What I do know is that you're a warrior and a survivor and you got a good heart to do what's right – don't let the island consume who you really are. Don't let it taint everything good in your life. Don't let it inside your head."

"That's easier said than done."

Digg took the computer in his hands and offered it to him. "Well maybe it's time you started trying."

He scrutinized his friend as he gathered the object in his arms. A sly smile broke through his usual stoic expression. "All that just because you don't want to spend any more time working on this?"

The man chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Just offering my sage advice, that's all."

Oliver nodded, laughing once before turning serious again. "If I do this, if I ask for her help, I do it my way. I decide what she knows, what she doesn't know. I don't want to take any chances with her, Digg. I can't."

"You got it, boss."


Dates and the whole object of dating usually came easy to Oliver.

Most of the time all he had to do was smile and look mildly interested in what they were saying and the girls were under his spell. And it wasn't really an ego thing; all his life, he'd been lavished with attention and told he was handsome and that he'd amount to great things so by the time he reached his teens he'd come to expect it really. As Tommy would say, he could have his choice of any girl in school – and he knew that. Not many of them played hard to get and those who did, he wasn't interested enough to pursue. He preferred it when they kind of just fell into his lap. Sometimes literally.

The only exception to that was Laurel Lance but one date with her was enough to crush the dream of her. Laurel was driven, ambitious, studious and serious – too serious for Oliver. She had a plan, she had goals and she had maps to get there. 'Pressure' was the word he associated with her; being around Laurel already made him feel like a lesser person. She had pre-conceived notions of who Oliver could be, of what he was capable of. All he wanted to do was go to the dance and then maybe drive somewhere remote and quiet, just the two of them - a speech about his future and prospects wasn't part of the plan. She just…wasn't his right fit.

Besides that, he considered himself quite skilful when it came to taking girls out.

Yet it appeared that on his way to pick up Felicity Smoak for their date, his usual confidence had tossed itself out the car window along with his cool collect. His palms were clammy, his shirt was just that little too tight across his chest, his stomach was doing all sorts of swooping movements; he was a nervous wreck.

And as he stood awkwardly in front of her house, his hand hovering in the air after he knocked on the door, he felt completely out of his depth. Oliver wasn't one to buckle under anxiety, but even he began to question himself as he waited for her to appear. It was all so new to him, so frightening.

It was also sort of exciting, too. Unexpected and unpredictable. For what almost felt like the first time ever, he had no idea how this date was going to go - and something about that was refreshing.

He could have chalked his nerves down to the fact that he hadn't been on a date in a couple of months, but deep down he knew it was because he was going out with a girl he could potentially more than like. It was ridiculous to think a girl could have such a hold on him, yet he relished in the thought, loving the light, floaty feel when he thought of her. Though not entirely sure what he was feeling, he knew that he didn't want it to go away.

Truth be told, the nerves were there to remind him that he had something to lose if he were to screw up. He didn't want to blow this chance; whatever was between them – and he wasn't imagining it, there was definitely something there – was something worth exploring. But it was also something that could explode spectacularly in his face. He was a screw-up; that, he knew all too well. But this chance, this opportunity, this girl…he couldn't mess it up.

Taking his best friend's advice, he actually did something with his hair so that it stayed out of his eyes, but while he waited for her he couldn't stop himself from playing with it, tossing errant locks to and fro, never happy with how it sat. Thoughts of self-doubt swirled menacingly through his mind, distracting him from reality. It wasn't until he heard her voice that he realized she had answered the door.

"Oliver?" She sounded concerned. He wondered how long she had been calling his name.

He snapped his eyes to hers, a deep exhale leaving his body. "What? Oh, uh…sorry, I was lost in my own little world there." He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Hi."

"Hi," she smiled, her eyes brightening.

It was only then that he really looked at her, his gaze soft. Felicity was easily one of the prettiest girls in his class and he was certain that lots of people noticed that, but when she stood there in front of him just in a simple top and jean shorts with her hair flowing over her shoulders, she was beautiful.

And that was the first time Oliver had ever used that word to describe a girl.

The realization made his stomach dip in that good way it did every time he saw her.

"You look…wow." If only he could express himself eloquently…

Felicity blushed, examining her outfit with a crinkled brow. "No I don't," she insisted sheepishly. "I spent forever trying to figure out what to wear because I didn't know what we'd be doing, and so I didn't exactly know how to dress. I thought about wearing jeans but then I remembered how hot it's supposed to get today and then I thought about a dress but then I thought that'd be a bit much for a first date – not that me in a dress implies, well, anything really but in my mind it kind of did…" she trailed off, her bottom lip trapped under her teeth. "You didn't need to know any of that and I'm talking too much again which I really have to learn to control…"

Oliver grinned. "I like it when you talk too much," he admitted fondly. "Not many people say what they really think; it's cool that you do. And, for the record, you do look…wow."

She ducked her head, abashed. "Oh well…thanks. You look hot," her orbs widened, " – nice! I meant nice!"

"I'll take 'hot'", he quipped, garnering a quiet giggle off her that boosted his confidence. Their eyes locked, something unknown yet undeniable charging between them. "I like your house," he said after a beat, motioning around him. His own eyes narrowed at his choice of topic, feeling the swell of stupidity rising in him again.

"Thanks. I mean, it's no Queen mansion but it does the job –" her mouth rounded in an 'o', "- I didn't mean to make a crack at how much money your family has, I was just trying to make a comparison and I put my foot in it like always…"

"Felicity," he cut in, her name smooth on his tongue, "it's okay."

She tittered gently in relief, tilting her head to the side, one eyebrow raised. "Did you do something to your hair?"

Was it bad that he felt all tingly because she noticed something different about him? Yes, yes it was. He ran a hand through his locks self-consciously. "Apparently there's this thing called a hairbrush," he joked. "It works wonders."

"So I've heard," she toyed back, using the door jamb to lean forward and in doing so, causing some of her hair to fall forward over her face. He never realized how long her hair was until then, its bounciness an extension of her personality.

"So…" His arms swung forwards and backwards as he let his focus fixate on her smile, "you ready to go?"

"Oh yeah sure, let me just grab my things." Before he could say anything she disappeared into her house, a bunch of noises and shuffles the only sounds to be heard while he waited, but just as soon as she was gone, she was back with a bag and a light jacket draped over her arm, her cheeks flushed from the movement.

Once the door was closed behind her, he boldly offered her his hand, praying that he wasn't being too forward. The want to hold her hand increased with every second they stood on that porch and in his mind, the decision to take the lead was now or never. Though there was a fleeting instance of hesitation on her part, Felicity accepted it, lacing her fingers through his and squeezing once as if she needed to make sure he was really there.

He squeezed back for good measure, trying not to focus on how perfectly her hand fit with his; her soft, delicate skin meshing with his slightly rougher graft creating just the right balance.

The walked hand in hand toward his car, the fresh breeze whipping around and cooling them down. He opened the passenger door for her and watched her smile shyly as she climbed in and when she was safely inside, he closed it and circled around to the driver's side, sliding in next to her.

He drove the Porsche. Instinct told him to impress her, to utilize his wealth to give him an edge, and if he was being honest, a part of him wanted to show off, to give her the best date possible because he was Oliver Queen and the sky was the limit. But another part of him, a larger part, believed that Felicity deserved to be treated the best. She deserved to be driven around in a Porsche purely because she would never want to be. She wasn't the type to make a big deal over his money – in fact, it actually made her uncomfortable, and that made him like her more. She didn't like him for how many zeroes he had in his trust fund, she didn't like him for his luxurious possessions or his ability to get pretty much anything he wanted without reserve; no, she, somehow, just simply liked him for him. What a fascinatingly thrilling concept.

"Where are we going?" she inquired curiously, angling her body toward him, a wave of her perfume washing over him. It was sweet but not in the overpowering kind of way. "You were kinda vague on the details."

He swallowed, flexing his hands on the steering wheel. "I was thinking we'd go for a walk in the park. Maybe get an ice cream."

An incredulous giggle burst out of her and she quickly slammed her hands over her mouth to stop it progressing further.

His chin dipped, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What's so funny?"

"It's nothing…it's just that, well, you don't really look like a 'walk in the park' kind of guy, that's all."

"Well that would be because I'm not really."

Her stare turned searching. "Then why choose it?"

Oliver had decided on the park after a pretty long debate with himself where we must have weighed up every option available to him. Nothing seemed to work. His ideas were either too crazy for a first date or just not good enough. When he thought about what he thought she'd like to do, a simple date came to mind – something easy and uncomplicated, where they could hang out without the stress of a label. No other option allowed him such freedom to get to know her better; in fact, they'd only inhibit the conversation. Oliver wanted to know as much about Felicity as possible. "I just felt like it was the perfect place for us to go. I mean, it's sunny out and we can walk and talk and I know of this ice cream truck that sells the best ice cream in Starling…" he stopped when he caught her expression. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just…you're surprising me that's all."

He glanced at her quickly. "Is that a good surprising or a bad surprising?"

"Oh good!" she asserted with her hands reaching out in front of her." Definitely good."

"Well that's good to know."

A mischievous glint in his eye, and taking stock of Felicity's watchful gaze, he pressed the button next to his arm, rolling down both his and her windows. The cool breeze roared through the space, pulsing over them as he picked up the speed. Her hair flapping wildly around her and his pulling all kinds of funny shapes, Oliver decided to open the sunroof, letting the rushing air consume them both. Though she was fighting with her unruly locks, Felicity couldn't contain her laughter – and she really laughed, throwing her head back and her arms in the air. The sound was just as exhilarating as speeding down the highway with the windows down, and soon enough Oliver joined in with her, finding it unbelievably infectious.

"Looks like I messed my hair up!" he yelled over the wind, pointing to his loose cut.

Biting her bottom lip, a small smile peeking though, Felicity reached over and took the hand closest to her, raising it in the air just a few moments.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a chuckle, basking in how alive the burst of wind in his face made him before steadying his hand back on the wheel again. The heat from her touch lingered on his fingertips, distracting him slightly.

"I can't let you miss out on all the fun!" she explained cheerfully, pushing all the excess blonde off her face and closing her eyes, tilting her head toward the glaring sun.

Oliver's smile widened as he turned his head to fully look at her.

He couldn't wait for the rest of the date.


The laptop was like a lead weight in his hands. Despite knowing it was just his anxiety messing with his head, Oliver swapped it from one arm to the other and then back again, feeling his muscles tense as he marched to the IT department, feigning an air of authority. One of the perks of being CEO was the lack of interaction he received when he travelled through the building and he, for one, couldn't have been more grateful for that as he closed the distance. Dealing with anyone at that point would have deterred him from what he had planned to do.

He had resigned himself to the fact that he needed help and though there were people who would have been more than willing to help out Mr Queen, none of them were Felicity. None of them knew computers like Felicity. And none of them kept a lock on his heart.

It was a risk; a gamble. But maybe, like Digg said, it was one worth taking.

She had her own office; the door wide open when he arrived. A puff of breath left his body and he braced himself, cursing that uneasy flopping his stomach was casually doing. Honestly, it was like his body was actively trying to sabotage him.

As he envisioned, Felicity was nose-deep in whatever was on her screen, her glasses dangling dangerous at the end of her nose. She chewed mechanically on the lid of her pen – something she used to do when doing her homework once upon a time, her eyebrows knitted together as she tapped away at her keyboard.

When his entrance didn't register with her, Oliver cleared his throat. "Hey," he greeted.

Her head shot up in shock, sending her ponytail flying out in all directions. "Ol…Oliver? Don't you knock?" she interrogated breathlessly.

"Felicity this is the IT department; it's not the ladies room." He really tried not to laugh but he was too late to suppress the smile that broke through.

She shook her head as if to bring her back to earth. "What – what are you doing here? I thought I told you I needed space and you coming down here isn't exactly –"

"Giving you space," he finished with a nod. "I know. But I'm not here to talk about…us; I'm here because I need your help. That's it; no hidden agendas or anything. I just need that crazy smart Smoak brain of yours."

Her lips rolled in, she squinted, trying to read him. She always did enjoy doing that. "What exactly is it you need my help with?"

A muscle in his neck ticked. "I'm having trouble with my computer and I have it on good authority that you're the person to come and see. You are the best at this type of stuff, after all." He pulled the laptop from under his arm and presented to her, leaving it on the desk. Felicity scooted over to it, fixing her glasses in the process. "I was at my coffee shop, surfing the web and I accidentally knocked it off the table."

"Really?" she posed disbelievingly.

"Yeah."

"Because these look like bullet holes."

He really should have worked out his excuse before he came down to the department. "My coffee shop is in a bad neighbourhood."

So much for being able to think quickly on his feet.

Felicity jerked her head forward, eyes narrowed. "Oliver, come on."

She was attempting to look menacing but he smiled nonetheless, letting her know that he knew how ridiculous he sounded. "Look, can you please just try to get it to work? I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important and you know that." He raised his shoulder a little, hoping the gesture would cut him some slack. "I really need your help, Felicity."

He made a deal with himself earlier: if she turned him away he would just figure something else out, no questions asked, no hard feelings; but the imperceptible change in her depths told him that he may have stood a chance. "Okay," she finally said after sizing him up, running her fingers over the grooves of the machine. "I'll see what I can do."

His shoulders dropped in relief. "Thank you. Um…" he checked his watch, "would it be okay if I came back…say around 5?"

Felicity licked her lips and nodded. "Yeah, that should be fine."

"Great." That was his cue to leave he knew, but he paused there a few seconds longer than courtesy demanded just looking at her. With all thought about how he had to give her space and keep her at a distance, he never really allowed himself a lot of time to digest the fact that, through whatever forces that may be, Felicity was back in his life. It stultified him to be perfectly honest. Being able to actually look at her, hear her voice – it proved astounding. On the island he only had his hazy memory and unreliable thoughts to help him construct a picture of her, yet none of that held a torch to the reality. "Well I guess I'll see you later then."

"I guess you will," she said, dragging her focus from him onto the laptop in front of her.

Before he said anything else, Oliver turned on his heel and strode out of the office, feeling her eyes on him as he did.


Her fingers danced over the keys swiftly. "It took me longer than I thought which surprised even me because we both know that file restoring is pretty much my thing, except for that one spat during senior year when I was all about coding, but eventually I managed it get in."

"How many cups of coffee did it take?" That invited a questioning look from her. Oliver shrugged, his business suit feeling large and chunky on him as he sat in the confined space behind her desk. "You always drink coffee when you're trying to crack something."

She twisted back to face the screen abruptly. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don't do that anymore?" she said a little petulantly.

"Not really."

Her hands stopped moving for the briefest moment. "Whatever," she grumbled, but the beginnings of a crooked smirk gave her away. "And I only had 3," she added when the silence lengthened a little too much.

"Really? Only 3?"

"Okay so maybe it was more like 5…"

"That sounds more like it," he professed teasingly, leaning forward so that his shoulder brushed hers.

Felicity, not one to overlook anything, spotted their close proximity and promptly, albeit pretty subtly, pushed her chair away from him. "Do you want these files or not?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized, his tone too solemn for the atmosphere.

The shift was immediate.

"I wish you'd stop saying that," she muttered under her breath; he knew he wasn't supposed to hear it – and that alone elicited a sharp tug in his chest. "Anyway…uh, when I got in, all that I could really find was this," she pushed a few buttons and a cascade of blueprints appeared in front of him, all of different buildings. "I mean, all that there seems to be, aside from the standard programs, are building plans…which you obviously know because it's your laptop and I'm just stating the obvious. I seem to have a tendency to do that - why exactly do you have blueprints of prominent buildings in the city? Is QC looking to acquire them?" Her hands darted out in his direction. "Wait, no don't answer that; that's absolutely none of my business and I shouldn't be asking you things that have nothing to do with me - just because we have history doesn't mean we have to share anything about anything."

The tug in his heart intensified, practically begging him to say something, to lay a hand on her shoulder, to just act. Make a move.

But he stayed still, keeping fixed on the prints, noting that five of them were of buildings already hit by the vigilantes. "Something like that," he replied vaguely, not alluding to anything in particular. "Did you happen to come across a list of some sort?"

Felicity eyed him carefully, her suspicion aroused. He could tell by her piqued eyebrows and rolled lips. Always a dead giveaway. "What kind of list, Oliver?"

"Just a list of names; nothing special," he answered off-hand.

She wasn't buying it. Turning in her chair to face him fully, she frowned. "Is all of this some kind of really badly put together ploy just to see me?" she charged, upset. "Because if it is, Oliver, I think you should go. I wasn't lying when I said I needed space and seeing you, especially when I wasn't prepared, just completely throws everything out of whack. I mean, one look at you and I'm that stupid, naïve girl who was completely in love with you – which I no longer am of course – but you know what I mean; you can't just do…this."

He exhaled slowly. "Felicity," he emphasised her name softly, "I don't want to overstep boundaries here; I really just needed your help."

With a curt nod that gave no indication of what was going through her mind, her fingers began to work again and Oliver waited patiently, watching icons and windows bounce around the screen. "I can't see a list," she explained, distracted.

"That's okay; it wasn't that important."

Her tongue met the roof of her mouth. "Okay then." A few clicks later and she unplugged a USB and handed it to him. "Here you go. Everything I could recover is on that."

Their fingers brushed lightly as he took it from her and ignoring the shock that ran up through his arm was impossible. Coughing to cover up his expression, Oliver stood. "Felicity, you're remarkable," he proclaimed, smiling.

Her face brightened. "Thank you for remarking on it."

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. I know you're busy and I just…thank you for doing this for me."

"Don't mention it," she waved off bashfully. "That's what friends are for."

Friends.

He could work with that.

Felicity reached for her coat on the back of her swivel chair with one arm and used the other to push around a few things on her desk into corners so as to give the impression that it was tidy. She never was the tidiest person; not messy by nature, but just not neat. Her life was a constant hop from one thing to another, flowing and connecting into whatever she liked at the time, never fully remaining steadfast so it made sense that her life, and everything in it, was devoid of a sense of order. Oliver loved that about her.

"Heading home?" he probed innocently, rubbing his fingers against his thumb.

"Well it is home time."

"Let me walk you to the parking garage. It's the least I can do."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need an escort, Oliver. I do it all the time."

"But today you have me and I insist."

"Well, I insist that you don't have to."

A shot of breath left his lungs. "Why are you so stubborn?"

"Why are you so persistent?"

"Will you just let me?" he chuckled.

Her face dropped. "I don't think it's a good idea, okay?"

"How about just to the elevator?" he offered, scrubbing a hand over his face. He couldn't just leave it at that.

He just couldn't.

"Olive-"

"Felicity."

Whatever was in his expression must have stirred something inside her because she rounded the desk and planted herself in front of him, her face tilted up to meet his perusing gaze. "Fine," she relented. "Just to the elevator."

His arm pulled out wide, signalling for her to lead the way. The clacking of her heels somewhat unnerved him but he followed suit, keeping in-step with her the whole way, not once moving too close or too far. To stop himself from doing something rash, he jammed his hands into his pockets.

She was the first to break the unwanted silence. "I saw the news earlier. About your mom."

Of course she did. Coverage of Moira Queen's trial was everywhere, shoving itself into Oliver's face at every chance. Not only did he have to deal with the press loitering outside his home when he left in the morning and when he came home at night, but they had taken to hanging outside QC offices now too, badgering him for a comment, asking him ludicrous questions and generally pissing him off.

The trial was coming up fast and bracing himself for what was to come wasn't an easy task. He was trying to keep it together for Thea's sake but with so many things piling on top of him, he found himself on the cusp of crumbling under the pressure.

"Yeah. It's kind of hard to miss."

Felicity pushed up her glasses. "How's Thea doing with it all?"

"Considering the circumstances…better than I thought. She finally went to see my mom and now she's there any chance she gets. It's tough on her though; she's still just a kid. But you know what she's like – Thea's strong. Always looking for ways to fight back." That she asked about his sister at all alleviated the tension nestling inside him. For the past few weeks it was as though there had been a physical manifestation of tension burgeoning in the pit of his stomach, growing and spreading with each passing day, worming its way through his entire body.

"Gosh, she must be, what, fifteen now?" She shook her head. "She's gone through so much already…how're you doing with it all?"

"About as well as you could imagine," he replied honestly, his tone causing her to pause.

Shakily, her hand came up to rest on his arm, her eyes sad.

And then the commotion started.

"Oliver Queen!" the voice boomed from down the hall. "Find me Oliver Queen!"

The sound of gunfire rang out around them, the sound deafening. All that could be seen was spurts of screaming office workers sprinting in all directions in complete panic.

Grabbing hold of Felicity without even thinking about it, he readied himself to do the same when a band of hooded figures swam into view, their guns aimed straight at him.

"Oliver Queen," the person in the middle thundered, jutting the firearm in his direction again, making him flinch in fear. "You have failed this city!"

Felicity's panicked breaths pounded against his ear.

He gulped.


So I have taken liberty with the Olicity story in Arrow so far; I couldn't use the 'spilled latte' excuse because I felt like it just wouldn't work with these versions of the characters but I love that scene so much that I thought I'd adapt the story to suit it.

As for Oliver being called 'The Hood' rather than 'The Arrow', I'm planning on having him consider the name change soon. In the first episode of the second season he was still stuck in name limbo and since I've used the villains from that episode, I felt it appropriate to keep it that way until the story moves past this particular event. As for further chapters, some events from season 2 will most likely appear (I have a few ideas...haha) so I hope you guys look forward to that!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it! Please leave me a review telling me what you thought! :)