Thanks for all the reviews guys, I really appreciate them and love receiving them, it makes me want to update sooner. So, I started college today so my updates may not be as frequent, or maybe I'll just shorten them? But I will continue, I promise. Hang on in there.

Thank you to WinterRain36 for some awesome ideas, a few of which I have included so thanks again for your help!

I apologise for the distinct lack of smut, I will make it up to you in the next chapter - promise! Unless you guys prefer the storyline's progression to the sex scenes, then I won't fret about making it dirty. Let me know what you think!

Oliver's mentioning of Daniel Phillips brought back a whole string of horrible memories for Felicity, all of a time she didn't plan on reliving. She had told Oliver about it one winter night, he had just shared a pretty horrific torture memory with her as they lay by the fire in the Queen's mansion. She felt it only right in that moment to share her own scars with him.

After their little heartfelt conversation on fear, Felicity and Oliver got started with their normal Saturday morning. They showered – together of course – and dressed casually, making their way leisurely to the Foundry for training.

When they stepped onto the premises of Verdant, Thea automatically pulled Oliver away, ranting about some issue with a vodka supplier. He was slow to follow her to help, frantically making excuses that he had to stay with Felicity.

The blonde placed a kiss on his cheek, leaning in to whisper into his ear, "Oliver, I am perfectly capable of walking down a set of stairs without dying."

He still wasn't happy, but he watched her walk away all the same.

When Felicity reached the bottom of the stairs, perfectly intact, she was greeted by the radiating sound of a compact body hitting the blue training mats with a grunt. She soon saw Roy spread out on these mats, sweaty buckets and groaning in pain, "Holy crap, Sara, go easy on a guy will ya?"

"You think an attacker is going to go easy on you? Just because you've been at this all morning doesn't mean you can afford to lower your shield, you must always be on guard, ready for an attack. So no, Roy, I will not go easy on you, not until I am safe in the knowledge that you've got my back out there," the blonde towering over him replied, just as sweaty as the boy.

Roy was the first one of the two vigilantes in the top secret lair to notice Felicity, although she was almost certain that assassin-trained Sara would've heard her heals clicking on the floor. "Hey look, Felicity's here, beat the crap outta her now, please."

"Actually," Felicity spoke uneasily, backing away from the mats slowly, "I just remembered I have other engagements, can we rearrange?"

Sara smiled at her, making the perkier of the blondes refrain from her escape, "I'll go easy on you at first, Felicity. I need to teach you the moves before I get you to use them. So go get changed."

Scared to argue with the assassin, she headed off into the Foundry's bathroom.

Oliver wasn't listening to anything his little sister was saying, not fully at least. He was worried about her along with so many others, Felicity included. Thea had skipped town for a while, in rage and grief and confusion. It wasn't until he managed to salvage the company and therefore his – her – club that she came back, but Oliver feared there was an alternative explanation to her return. In her time away she had become more muscularly toned, he had seen the same transformation in Sara while they were together on the island, it was a gradual process but evident all the same.

But he didn't press her, just glad that she was home for him to keep an eye on. Something he was doing willingly.

It wasn't until he heard an alternative female call his name that he left Thea to her own devices, walking down the stairs from the stock room out to the dance floor.

"Laurel," he greeted the smiling brunette he once loved.

And it was true, he had loved her. He had never loved Sara, neither before nor after the island, every time they got together it was a desperate attempt to feel something, for both of them. Laurel was different; the old Oliver loved her, not enough to be faithful but he did. She was the one thing that kept him alive through the island, his reason to survive, and at first it was true.

He needed to survive to apologise to her, for cheating, for causing what he thought at the time was Sara's death, for everything. He needed to get home to her. But after a while, that stopped. Everything he did was to survive but it wasn't for her, he still looked at her picture every night, reassuring himself that she was real, that he had loved her, that she had loved him, to reassure him that he wasn't a murderer, a monster, a maniac, he was a survivor. And soon, everything he did he put down to doing for her, but that wasn't the case anymore.

When he returned home, they had both changed, she wasn't made for Oliver, she loved Ollie, and maybe they could have been happy together if he hadn't had left for five years, but he had. For the next year, he convinced himself that he still loved her, that the old Ollie was still inside of him somewhere, that he hadn't succumbed to the darkness. But he was too far gone, he was the darkness. And soon, there was only one woman in the world that could shed some light on his existence, and it wasn't Laurel, or Sara, or Helena.

"Can I help you, Laurel?" Oliver asked politely, moving to stand in front of the brunette.

"Ollie," she returned, flicking through the folder in her hands, Oliver would never tell her – or Sara and Thea – that he hated being called Ollie, that wasn't him anymore, it wasn't so bad with Sara though, she knew he wasn't that kid anymore, it was her who needed to latch on to the past to convince herself that she wasn't a cold-blooded murderer, and calling him Ollie helped her with that, "I need to just figure out what angle to sell that Ray Paulo case your alter ego flicked my way, thought you and Felicity might be able to help dig up some extra dirt on him."

She turned each page at a time, trying to find the right case. But Oliver caught something that caught his eye far more, "turn backwards," he ordered her abruptly.

"Ollie, most of this is confidential, I…"

He cut her off sharply with a demand, "I said turn backwards, Laurel."

She did so obediently, flicking back one page, two, three, four, five, "stop." He spoke and she did, landing on a note page for one of her previous trials, "what is this?"

"Oh that one's just a favour for a friend, do you remember Mrs Leeds, our old high school English teacher? Well it's her nephew, he appealed for a shorter sentence, but he got convicted years ago, I helped him get it anyway. Why, what's the problem?"

Oliver wasn't listening to her reply, his gut was twisting and his eyes filled with disgust as he read the name of the criminal, "Daniel Phillips."

"He's in starling?" Oliver snarled at the assistant district attorney before him.

"Yeah, he was transferred to Iron Heights when they rebuilt it after the quake, he wasn't in the good books of many of his prison mates where he was previously. Have you met him before?"

"No, and he better wish that I never do."

Felicity landed on the mats with a thud and a whimper, feeling the bruise on her hip already forming and becoming tender, Sara stood over her cockily, throwing the bamboo stick she held between her two hands. "I think that's enough on defence today, let's talk attacking," the assassin spoke, helping the gym clothed clad Felicity Smoak back onto her feet.

"Oliver tells me you have an almost eidetic memory, I can put that to good use. Will you remember the moves as I teach you?"

"Easily," Felicity replied, not as chipper as she usually found herself, rubbing a sore spot on the top of her leg.

"Good, so we'll just have to work on your muscle memory, that'll just be a lot of practise. Now had you thought about a weapon?"

Felicity shifted her weight between her feet like Sara taught her, to stop her muscles seizing up, fearing this session wasn't yet over. "Not really no, I thought you might have an idea."

"I do," Sara replied, walking away to the edge of the mats and pulling a brown box from under the table there, "I had them custom made as soon as Oliver came to me with mask ideas, I figured it was only a matter of time before you would want them."

Felicity opened the box slowly, revealing two pink shafts with a chain connecting them to each other. Running down each stick was the Binary translation of her vigilante name. She lifted them, seeing one had a black band around the bottom, she had expected them to be hard and heavy, but she soon recognised the material as wood that had been painted in her shade of pink. The chain was short between them, but heavier than both the sticks.

"Nunchaku, or as they are more commonly known as, nunchucks, they're a traditional Okinawin martial arts weapon. They are carved from oak and submerged in mud for several years, where lack of oxygen would cause them to harden. Yours are glow in the dark, I painted them myself to assure so, and I guess Oliver forgot to tell you that your mask is too. The stick with the band is the one you hold, it's called a 'yang stick' and you strike with the 'dragon stick.' I never got on with them but I think you will, it would be very hard for you to kill with these but you could easily knock someone out, and they look good with all the tricks. What do you think?"

Felicity discarded the box, placing the holding stick in her palm and getting a good grip on it, feeling the other piece of wood fall perpendicular to the floor, the chain holding them together, "it's perfect. Teach me to use it."

And that's what they spent that afternoon doing.

Oliver came in shortly after Felicity was presented with the nunchaku, watching them train from her desk with a distant gaze. Felicity knew something was on his mind, and she had a feeling she didn't want to know exactly what.

By the time Felicity fell to the ground in exhaustion, Sara was pleased at how well she had done. They already had the basics down, after being taught some tricks and with practise, she'd be an expert. In fact, Sara was extremely surprised by how fast she'd picked it up. Felicity felt pretty great about it too.

Then, the currently turned off screens on Felicity's desk sprang to life, a surreal yellow light beaming from them and the two girls ran towards Oliver. And almost instantaneously, words began to print themselves along the three screens, running horizontally across them all.

"I SWORE TO GOD I WOULD KILL YOU, AND I WILL."

After reading them, everything became clear to Felicity, and she collapsed into Oliver with horrendous sobs, remembering just why the words registered.

Seven years earlier…

The pencil skirt the young Felicity Smoak wore was cutting off the circulation to her thighs, her blouse's collar too tight on her neck and her lungs too small for the amount of air she wanted to breathe in from the courtroom's atmosphere.

The verdict was about to be spoken, determining just how she would live the rest of her days; in the fear of Daniel's rage, or in the safe knowledge that he was behind bars. Either way, as soon as she finished her degree, she was out of there, applying for jobs at as many billion dollar companies she could find, the top of her list being Wayne Enterprises and Queen Consolidated, she didn't care whether she was in Gotham or Starling, as long as it was far away from Daniel.

He ended up with ten years, without the chance for early release for good behaviour, she was relieved to say the least, so relieved that she hugged the spokeswoman, getting unfortunately close to Daniel Phillips.

"This is ridiculous! That bitch deserved it! Let me go!" The guards restricted him as he spat more hurtful comments towards Felicity, not before adding, "I swear to God I'll kill you for being such a kiss-ass snitch, Felicity Megan Smoak, I swear to God I will!"