Disclaimer: WB/DC own these characters. I'm only borrowing them for a while. I own the original ideas found in this.

AN: Thanks so much for returning. I apologize it took a while to get this out. I had difficulty bridging several different sections I had written together into one chapter. And of course I have a fantastic ending written already. I just need to figure out how to get there, sigh.

Also, some sadness in my life. I have not done much writing since mid-February. My father suddenly become ill and we lost him the first week of March. My heart has gone with him. Someday, God willing, I will have a book published to dedicate to him as well. Until then, I dedicate this chapter with all my love to the best man I've ever known, my father. I love you Dad, and God willing, I will indeed write a book about you someday like you asked me to.

Previously:

"Well, good. You have a good sleep. See you in the morning." Oliver thought for a moment, then added, "Why don't you use the bathroom first? I'll wait." He sat down and grabbed the nearest magazine. I laughed when I realized it was a computing magazine.

"What? Who says this wouldn't hold my interest?" He smiled, then winked at me.

I rushed to the bathroom before he could notice my face turning red yet again. I washed my face quickly, removing the makeup I had applied earlier, and brushed my teeth. Quelling my instinct to look in on Oliver one more time, because, really, how long can I drag the good nights anyway…I crawled into bed and shut off the light. A sudden tiredness overtook me. I fell asleep as soon as I laid down.

Before I knew it, I was waking up to the delicious smell of pancakes and bacon. Who knew Oliver Queen, playboy, secret hero of Starling City, was a cook? Maybe I once did, I suppose. Grimacing at my not-so-funny joke, I sat on the edge of my bed and stretched. I suddenly felt shy about facing my secret crush in my nightclothes, so I quickly washed my face, brushed my teeth and changed into a simple outfit of a blue T-shirt and skinny jeans.

I met him in the hallway. I stopped just short of barreling into him. As I pulled away I noted he was wearing a gray T-shirt and sweatpants.

"Oh, I was just on my way to peek at you. To…to make sure you were okay. You slept so soundly last night I almost wanted to hold a mirror under your nose to see if you were still breathing," Oliver said, a light pink color rising on his face.

"Yeah, I did sleep good. Didn't wake up until now." Looking up into his bright blue eyes, I thought I better change the subject. "I think someone's been busy. I smell pancakes and bacon cooking."

"Yep. You may not recall, but that is one of your favorite breakfast combos. So I thought I'd make it for you this morning." He shuffled in place. "You know, eating a good breakfast is the number one step in recovery."

I smiled at him. "Well, thank you, kind sir. I suppose we should go eat. Don't want your hard work going to waste by getting cold."

Oliver stepped aside, letting me take the lead into the kitchen. The table was set, a plate was covered with the lid from one of my large skillets. Oliver hurried to one of the chairs, pulling it out for me. I thanked him as I sat down. He turned to the counter, bringing back a plate of bacon. Setting it down, he then took off the cover of the plate, revealing the pancakes.

"Chocolate chips even!" I exclaimed. "My favorite!"

Oliver sat back in his chair, cocking an eyebrow at me. I looked at him shaking my head. "No, I don't know how I knew that," I answered him before he could ask me. I am beginning to get sick of that question as well as my standard answer to it.

"Again, Felicity, I know this all has been difficult for you, but you have been making more progress every day. One of these times you'll have a major breakthrough. I'm sure of it."

Realizing I had spoken out loud again, I just accepted it this time without excuses or blushes. I simply shook my head. "Yeah, I know, you keep telling me that. Sorry."

"That's okay. You've had to repeat things for me plenty of times." Oliver winked at me as he took four pancakes from the plate. "I'm simply returning the favor."

I rolled my eyes. Silence fell upon us as we sat and ate. I felt it was a comfortable, companionable silence, which Oliver appeared to agree with as well. The food tasted as delicious as it looked. Wow, this man certainly had more than his share of talents. It really isn't fair.

"What isn't fair?" Oliver asked.

I jumped as his question broke the silence. My eyes rolled as I realized I again had spoken my thought out loud. Searching my non-functioning brain for a credible answer, I decided to go with honesty. "You are so multi-talented, Oliver. Is there anything you can't do?"

The man beside me looked down at his plate. I waited while he pushed his remaining bits of pancake in the syrup. He shrugged, then looked me in the eye. "I suppose, being honest with people at times. Or at least honest about my feelings, I suppose."

Wow. I didn't expect a serious answer from the man. Deciding to keep it light, I said, "Good to know. I'll keep that under advisement."

He gave me a small smile then. Looking at my finished plate, he jumped to his feet and stacked the dishes into one pile. "I'll put these into the water to soak." Looking at the clock, he sighed. "I didn't realize it was so late. I better get going." Turning to me he asked, "Think you will be okay today?"

I nodded. "I'll probably do much the same as yesterday." Looking at the dishes, I added, "besides washing them up."

Oliver nodded. "I'm just a phone call away if you need anything." He rushed off to the bathroom after grabbing his suit hanging on my coat closet door. I wondered how that had gotten there. "Oh, Dig stopped by with my suit and asked how you were. He will call later to check on you, I suppose."

~~OQ~~FS~~OQ~~

After Oliver left for work, I washed the dishes, then I puttered around the house until I felt sleepy again. This recovery thing certainly is hard work. In the exploration of my house, no miracle happened. Nothing looked familiar, or brought a rush of memories. Despite myself, I still sighed with disappointment and flopped down on my couch. I looked at Oliver's pillow. Suddenly it looked so comfortable, I grabbed it and stretched out on the couch.

The scent of sandalwood and musk gently wooed me to sleep. Without knowing it, I fell into a deep sleep and began to dream…at least I thought I was dreaming. Of me and Oliver. We were in an elevator shaft where, for some reason, he told me to hold onto him tight. "I imagined you saying that under different circumstances," I said to him. He looked me, and I added, "Very platonic circumstances."

Then the scene changed. Oliver had me by the hand and we were running from an office where bullets were flying. We ran into another office when suddenly I felt myself pulled into Oliver's arms before we somehow swung out one window, towards another one, which we then crashed through. We found ourselves sliding across the floor on our stomachs until we came to a stop. I felt Oliver's hand brushing the hair out of my face, silently asking if I was okay. I looked over at him and nodded.

Then the weirdest of them all. I was standing in the middle of a forest, when suddenly Oliver comes swinging down from a tree without a shirt on, showing off all of his marvelous muscles, and swooping me in his arms. An explosion occurred behind us, a real, true-to-life explosion, as we fell to the ground, Oliver on top of me. And all I could say was, "Boy, you're sweaty."

I woke up then, and laid on my side, staring blankly at my turned-off TV. Even though they seemed fantastical, with what Oliver and Dig shared with me last night, I somehow knew all three incidents were true. Or mostly true. I let my mind wander through what I could remember about my life…still nothing, absolutely nothing. Besides those dreamed recollections, I still could not remember my childhood (which Oliver did tell me was spent in Vegas), or my college years. Nothing. Yet.

Before, during my search of my apartment, I had found a picture of me with a woman who had to be my mother. The family resemblance was unmistakable. It could've been an older sister, but Oliver had told me I didn't have any siblings. I wondered if I should call her. I had also asked Oliver about that, but he suddenly looked a little odd. He said that, at the moment, it would be overwhelming in my state. Looking at the woman, with her tighter-than-advised blue dress, her hair in a high ponytail, she did appear to a woman who would be quite a handful. So…maybe I will wait for that. But, the temptation still existed to call her and get a jump-start in filling the blanks. However, Oliver had warned me that would be a bad idea. So, I will wait. Impatiently, but I will wait nonetheless. However, I did take comfort in knowing some facts. Especially that Oliver and I are…teammates, friends…at least.

Reminding myself I needed to keep getting my rest, I grabbed my tablet and pulled up Netflix. I searched my previous selections, to get an idea of what I had liked before. From the descriptions of the TV shows and movies, I sure liked sci-fi and adventure. But a close second seemed to be romantic comedies. I decided to pick one, "Pretty Woman" to watch, and I settled on the couch with Oliver's pillow again.

I ended up falling asleep near the end of the movie, and woke up to my phone ringing. As I grabbed for it, I looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was four o'clock. I had slept for about two hours. Dig was on the phone, asking if he could stop by with pizza for supper tonight. I agreed it sounded good. He said that Olive would also stop by, then they would go to the Lair tonight. If I didn't mind.

Now that I was in on the secret, even though I still didn't know much about it, I figured it was important for them to 'patrol the streets' or whatever they called it. I told Dig that I would be fine staying by myself, but I would expect them shortly after 5. Hanging up, I shook my head to clear the remaining drowsiness left from my nap. Looking around my home, I was glad it wasn't too much of a mess. After hitting the bathroom to fix my hair and check my make-up, I set the table and waited for them to arrive.

Supper was just as enjoyable as it was the night before. Of course, we didn't spend as much time talking, because I could tell Oliver especially was getting antsy to get to the Lair. I swallowed my disappointment at not discovering more about my life and told them to get going. Dig told Oliver he needed to go home to check on Lyla, but that he would meet him at the Lair.

After finishing his juice, Oliver got up to leave as well. Catching me by surprise, Oliver turned to face me while in the doorway. "Felicity, you are still remarkable."

"Thank you for remarking on it," escaped from my lips. Of course, from what I have learned about myself in the four days of 'knowing' me, that sounds like something I usually say that gets a laugh from any and all listeners. But the reaction from Oliver was quite different. He looked at me, his face gone white, and he softly whispered, "Yes, you certainly are welcome."

Even though he said he would refuse to answer any more of my questions tonight, I still wanted to know the reason for his strange reaction. "What was that? Was that something I've said before? Is it something special?"

I could tell he couldn't believe I said that. With my question, he came out of his stupor and the vacant grin which I was getting extremely familiar with made its appearance once again on his face. I stopped him before he began to speak, for I knew he was going to lie to me. That grin was his "fibbing grin", after all.

"Hold it right there, buster," I said. That type of talk seemed comfortable and 'right' to me. I can't imagine why, but it just did.

Oliver's face now took a look of fake innocence. "What?"

"So, before you try lying to me, are you aware I know when you're lying?"

"So?"

"So nothing. Tell me about the time I made those remarks. And don't lie to me."

Oliver began to shuffle his feet in place. And his left index finger and thumb he began to rub together. Again. Yep, I was onto something. That motion is another one of his tells, after all. This time, I was going to get some answers, though. I wasn't going to let him get out of it this time.

"Um, Felicity, I told you…."

"I really do not care. I really don't. I don't think I will suffer harm by you telling me one more story from my past. And possibly, it may well be what brings my entire memory back. Have you ever thought of that? You should, you know."

Oliver considered this. After a minute, he slowly nodded, with a look of resignation. "Okay. It happened shortly after we met. You had finished something for me, and I was grateful. You were indeed remarkable, so I ended up telling you that. You, being you, said what you just said, 'Thank you for remarking on it.' At the time, I just thought it was one of the most endearing things I've ever heard anyone say." He looked so cute as he fought a bashful smile taking over his face.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Are you sure we're only friends? Because, because I'm getting an awful strong sense of more than friendship coming from you, Oliver."

AN: I know, I know, as one of my reviewers had said I sure do love cliffhangers. Yeah, I know, but it just seems to happen that way. So glad you are continuing to read and follow this story, and hope you will return for the next chapter as well. And as always, reviews feed the Muse and make her happy and creative!