Just a fluffy feel-good chapter which took a slightly darker turn at the beginning and end... somehow.

It's a new nightmare – well, no, not really. But in this timeline it is. One of Felicity on the Queen's Gambit, instead of Sara. Of her being rescued in Sara's place and being forced into torture. Of him choosing her over Shado. Of how he remembers her, on Lian Yu, standing on the land mine years and years ago (and not yet and never if he has any say in it). Of the drug putting her into a coma. Of her dying in the kidnapping yesterday.

Of Oliver being too late to save her, to rescue her – always too late.

He wakes up, breathing fast and shallow, sweat cooling on his skin and he scrambles out of bed before he even knows what he's doing, his feet carry him over to the bedroom Felicity's staying in. He opens her door, standing in the doorway, just watching to make sure she's alive, she's breathing.

He shouldn't be doing this; this Felicity doesn't know him like his wife. This is an invasion – an invasion of her privacy, of her. He should leave – but he can't.

His heart is still racing, his breathing too fast, his hands trembling and the need for violence – to beat something – someone – up, to kill those who dared to hurt her and to exercise himself into exhaustion is still there. He can't move – his legs won't move, he can't tear his eyes away from the sleeping blonde in the bed. Knowing she's safe. In his home and safe.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Oliver's breathing returns to normal, his heart slows down and he becomes more aware of his surroundings; of the empty wrappers and empty glass on her bedside table, of the cloche lying to the side and only crumbs left of the sandwich and he ends up smiling to himself in the darkness. Ever since their time in Ivy town, Oliver's enjoyed being able to cook food for Felicity and her usually very vocal approval of everything he makes. It's nice to see that she still enjoys what he makes for her.

He also notes that her clothes are neatly folded on the chair he left his shirt and boxers for her but doesn't allow his thoughts to stray further than that.

One more moment, he tells himself, then he needs to step out and leave her before this becomes creepy.

"'livr?" Felicity murmurs sleepily, blinking at him through tired eyes, reaching for him.

"Sorry," he says quietly, unwilling to further disrupt her sleep but still stepping closer to touch her outstretched hand. He gently strokes over the back of it before pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Shh, everything's alright, promise. Just go back to sleep."

There's a little more awareness, but not much. Oliver knows her well enough to guess that it's just at the threshold of awareness where she may remember this in the morning.

"Y'kay?" She yawns half-way through making her near unintelligible but years of working both days and nights with her, have made him rather proficient at deciphering it.

He softens at her concern for him.

"I'm okay, I promise. Just needed to check on you."

There's confusion in her eyes before they clear slightly.

"Need sleep." His lips twitch at her monosyllabic responses, but he answers her easily.

"I know. I'll leave now. Sleep well."

He makes to distance himself but her surprisingly firm grip on his hand holds him back.

"Sleep," she repeats, patting the other – empty – half of the bed behind her.

"I- what?" His voice is higher pitched in surprise as he jolts slightly at being offered something he is so very desirous of and something she cannot possibly mean.

"'m alone. Scared. You prot'ct'd me." She snuffles adorably and Oliver feels himself melting. To be fair, he fully intends to bed down atop of the covers but they're the first thing she lifts up for him, so instead he slides in beside her, heart racing, palms sweaty and trying to stop himself from pulling her closer.

Of course, Felicity ignores his indecision and curls herself tight against him, breathing in deeply and relaxing her blonde hair spilling across his chest and shoulder, her head near his heart. For the first time since he's back here, something inside of him unfurls and something deep inside of him relaxes. God, he wonders how he could have ever denied himself this. Denied himself her. Felicity.

"Safe," she murmurs again, her warm breath skating across his chest. He wraps a protective arm around her and tucks her tightly against him and he cannot help but feel glad for the reprieve. Not only did she not run screaming when he broke bones and efficiently beat up and dismantled their kidnappers, she still sees him as safe. As someone who wouldn't hurt her, someone who would protect her.

"Always," he promises quietly, pressing a kiss to her head. Felicity drops into deep sleep just a moment later. "Love you," he tells her while she's asleep. The words have been hovering on his tongue all day and it's a relief to finally be able to say them aloud. "You're my always," he promises her again quietly.

He relishes in the feeling of her against him, of the scent of her surrounding him and falls into deep, restful sleep with an ease this body hasn't known for over five years.

By the time he wakes up, it is definitely well past dawn, and the sun has been clearly lighting up their – Felicity's – room for a while. He'd clearly needed the extra sleep, but Oliver is still amused that for this body it must be the first time in five years he's not up with the sun. Felicity is close to waking, however, by his reckoning which means he needs to have a quick shower, change clothes and then woo her with some awesome breakfast.

When he tries to gently extricate himself, hoping to be gone by the time she awakens so she won't have a heart attack at finding him in her bed, Felicity naturally chooses that moment to wake up. Oliver freezes, unsure if she will kick him out of bed or use her loud voice.

Just to be contrarian, he's certain, Felicity's response is instead to look at him, let her eyes wander down and over his chest and curl right back up against him with a happy sigh.

"Oh, this is a nice dream," she murmurs happily, and he chuckles gently, relaxing back into bed. Unfortunately, the unwanted movement of his chest jars her, and her eyes snap on to his.

"This isn't a dream," she asks hesitantly, eyes wide and blush already spreading, "is it?"

"Sorry, sweetheart," the endearment slips out without thought, "it's very real."

He can see her wake up, take in their clothes, the bed, try and recall what happened.

"I had a nightmare that yesterday's … situation ended rather differently. I came to check on you," Oliver explains without prompting. "You appeared to have similar dreams – and I imagine waking up in an entirely new room without anything you recognise didn't help. You-" he clears his throat uncomfortably, his ears hot, "You said I felt safe. And invited me to stay. I- I hope that's okay."

She's looking at him for a moment longer and Oliver is still caught somewhere between fidgeting uncomfortably or leaping out of bed with a thousand apologies, when a warm smile lights up her face and he freezes.

"And you stayed?"

"Ah," he hedges, uncomfortably, "to be fair, I fell asleep pretty quickly." Oliver shrugs. "But I am sorry if-"

Her finger on his lips cuts him off quickly.

"No," she says firmly, "don't want to hear it. I've had a terrible – just terrible – week. Then I went on a sort-of-date with a new friend, got drugged, kidnapped, interrogated by the Police of all things. And yet, when I was vulnerable, tired, and sleepy, you got me into bed. You took care of me. You made me food. You got me my pain killers, water, took off my glasses, my shoes." Felicity shakes her head, looking baffled.

"Did you know, that the last time I remember someone doing something like that for me was my mother when I was like, eight? Most times it was me taking care of her between working several jobs and late shifts. Cooper," she eyes him but can see he's heard the name before, doesn't need any further explanation or introduction, "well, he wasn't a bad boyfriend, but I was on feminist taking-care-of-myself-kick… which really meant I haven't ever had anyone do this for me."

Her brows are furrowed adorably as she takes him in, exhaling sharply. "But, Oliver, last night, you did. Last night, for the first time in a long, long time, I didn't feel unsafe for even a moment. I was kidnapped and I was so, so scared but when you held me- I didn't feel scared anymore. I wasn't worried. I was just… safe. Like you were going to protect me. Save me. It sounds insane, doesn't it? But I didn't have any doubt – that you'd beat them, that you wouldn't lose, that you wouldn't let them harm me." She breathes out heavily, wiping at her eyes, sniffling slightly and cheeks flushed with emotion. "I mean, I can protect myself, got rid of my stalker myself and everything but… last night – I didn't have to. Because you did it for me. That-" she's still looking at him carefully, her smile warm and soft, "That means a lot to me," Felicity finishes softly, eyes brimming with tears.

"Anytime," Oliver promises, clasping her hand in his. "Always." He uses the other one to gently trace his thumb across her cheek, wiping away a stray tear and pressing a gently kiss to her other cheek. "Anything you want."

"Anything?" she asks coyly, a teasing edge to her grin, trying to distract from their emotional moment and Oliver chuckles deeply, chest rumbling with laughter.

He winks easily at her, lowering his voice register to near-Arrow levels (not that the vigilante exists in this universe yet), and promises her, "anything." With a slight edge to his voice. Her eyes widen, cheeks flush and she's the one to look away first.

"Now," he says in his normal voice, "if you'll allow me, I'll get myself ready in my room for the day, I'll make you some breakfast and I'll get you some clothes." He pauses, blinks and gives her a wry grin and acknowledges with a shrug, "not necessarily in that order."

Oliver moves slowly, removing his arm from beneath her, careful not to touch dangerous areas he shouldn't even be looking at when she's only known him since yesterday, before lifting himself, one handed, so he can tuck the duvet safely around her before standing up and slipping out of bed.

"Do you want me to bring you breakfast?" He asks, just as he's at the door and turns just in time to see her eyes narrow.

"Look," she starts, voice sharp, "Just because I said I liked that you were there for me last night, doesn't mean I need to be coddled or pampered. I can very well take care of myself, thank you. And I will not have you bring me breakfast in bed like I'm some sort of pampered princess or sick or disabled. And just in case it comes up, no, I don't need you to hold my hand and I can, indeed, use a knife and cut my own meal."

Oliver knows she's angry – outraged – at what she views as paternalistic behaviour. He, however, can't help but think that no matter how frightening his future-past-wife is, she is still adorable and there's always been something about seeing her angry, seeing her fired up – passionate – that sends him down a very different line of thought.

Breathing out almost silently, he focusses back on the blonde nearly being swallowed whole by the large bed and mountains of duvet and yet still, somehow, managing to look ferocious – and adorable. Not that he'd mention the latter to her out loud right now, but he still felt his lip curl up in reluctant amusement as he hears her grumble under her breath.

"Felicity," he intones softly, voice threaded with a deep, rumbly chuckle. "I promise that whatever you think I meant when I offered you breakfast in bed, that wasn't it." Still, he can't stop himself from teasing her slightly, as he elaborates, "I don't see you as the princess and the pea, or that you've got fainting sickness or vapours or whatever other idea you've concocted in that very, incredibly, super-smart brain of yours. I would be delighted if you came downstairs to join me and whoever is still home from my family, for breakfast. But I know that they – that we – can be overwhelming and I didn't want to force you or push you. So, breakfast in bed – an out. If you want it. Or I can make something up for you to take home with you."

"Oh," there's that blush spreading across her cheeks again. "I'm sorry, Oliver."

He shrugs and shakes his head. Honestly, she isn't as far off as he'd like her to be. He would like nothing more than to cocoon her in the bedroom for hours – days – to make sure she's safe, she's happy. But he knows it wouldn't make her happy, so he doesn't even suggest the idea of her staying at the mansion. He knows it's imposing at first, second and maybe even third glance. And his family, with all their drama, secret and lies – not to mention the public attention… well, it's a lot. For anybody. And Oliver wanted nothing more than to give her time, to let her make her own decision on the right time and to make her own introductions. But, unfortunately, that's not how things had played out this time around.

"Don't worry about it," he reassures her. "Now – any special requests for breakfast?"

She's got her glasses on, and is staring at him – not with lust or attraction, but scanning him like she's trying to figure out what makes him tick, why he's doing and saying the things he is.

"Surprise me," she decides after a moment and there's a challenge in her gaze when she eyes him, he can't help but smirk in response to.

"As you wish," he says with a wink and a courteous bow as he exits, delighting in the memory of her, sheets clutched to her chest, hair in a dishevelled halo all around her, rapidly blushing at the Princess Bride-memory and her adorable little squeak at his wink.

Then he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Right.

Breakfast.

He takes two steps in the direction of his bedroom before diverting and dropping by Thea's room, knocking on the door.

"Hey bro," Thea says, smirking at him, draped half-way across her chair when she bids him to enter. Since his return and her dating Roy, Oliver has learned the hard way to always – always – knock before entering.

"So, how was your night?" she asks predictably, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Fishing, Thea? Really?"

She shrugs and he shakes his head, sighing. "Restful," he finally says and her eyebrows rise in surprise.

"Really? I thought you'd be all-" She makes a rude hand gesture he frankly isn't sure how to interpret – or if he wants to know explicitly what that is meant to mean.

He stares, taken aback and, maybe, slightly shocked. Adult-Thea has her own life. He gets that, he really does. But teenage-not-quite-adult Thea? Something inside of him cringes. And not just at the way she's speaking about Felicity.

"No," he cuts her off sharply. "Felicity is- she's different, Thea." He tells her, because he doesn't want to see his sister treat his future-hopeful-wife like that. "She hasn't even agreed to go on a date with me, yet."

This time it's his sister who straightens and stares at him, head tilted and looking like he is the puzzle not the teenage girl.

"Last I remember, Ollie," she starts, curious and eyes narrowed as she takes him in, "you didn't need to date a girl to do that."

He winces. "Yeah, I really thought I kept most of that away from you."

Thea shrugs, relaxing slightly again.

"Most of it, you did. But not all. There was Brittany when I was- oh, I don't know… eleven? The twins when I was like ten. And another few plus the occasional brag from Tommy when I was in earshot," Thea shrugs, "I put things together. Didn't quite understand till a bit later, but in retrospect – well." She shrugs again, but his sister really doesn't need to finish the sentence for him to understand.

"Right. Sorry about that," he apologises, looking her in the eyes. "I never wanted you to know – or find out. Or think of me that way." There's a wry smile on his lips. "I was always proud of the way you looked up to me, Speedy, you know. I'm sorry to have put a dent in it. But, my point is, I'm not kind of a guy anymore and Felicity… she's worth so much more than me. But, and I know this doesn't make sense. I have only just come home – but she's it, for me. And I want to make sure I treat her right. Build something real with her. A real relationship. A partner."

Oliver purses his lips. Maybe Felicity's babble is contagious. He had intended to discuss this with Felicity first, rather than opening up to his sister.

"Anyway. She's not there yet. She's only known me for, well, less than a day. So if you could please lay off being a gremlin little younger sibling, just for this morning, I would really, really appreciate it."

Thea looks surprised, slightly open-mouthed at his word vomit but he can see the shell around her crumble, revealing the slightly damaged, softer young girl underneath.

"Sure, Ollie," she affirms and he smiles and pulls her into tight hug as thank you, delighting in the happy squeal she gives when he has no trouble twirling her mid-air like he used to do when she was much, much younger. Thea's laughing, happily – unrestrained – when he puts her back on the ground, eyes sparkling brightly.

"And if you have some spare clothes you could share with her, I'd really appreciate it. She hasn't really got anything lying around and I'm not sure she wants to wear the same clothes she was kidnapped in again."

Thea blinks, tilting her head.

"Oh, you haven't been downstairs yet, have you?" she asks, rhetorically, before smirking slowly when he shakes his head.

"Well, the guilt trip yesterday worked wonders on Mum. Downstairs you'll find at least half a wardrobe full of clothing for your maybe-maybe-not-girlfriend."

Oliver grimaces. "Oy, Felicity will have my head," he mutters, looking up at the ceiling as he braces himself for looking at whatever his mother thinks is appropriate wardrobe for Felicity. He dreads telling her about it already – Thea has nothing better to do than descend first into giggles, than outright laughter at whatever expression is on his face.

No help there; he can already see that. With a sigh, he forces himself to move. Putting things off will not help – besides, he really wants to have Felicity taste his homemade breakfast foods for the first time. A part of him wonders if Felicity had ever, in the two decades living without him, raising their children on her own, without him – the way he'd promised her it would never be, the same way her mother raised her – learned how to cook for their children by necessity.

He kind of wants to make sure that this Felicity never has to learn how to cook. How to be patient. That no, putting it at the highest heat will not make the food cook faster. He knows she'll change – away from the woman he'd married in his timeline, who'd given him Mia, who'd been through hardships this one would never go through if he could help it. But he hopes that this isn't one of those, that, even twenty years from now, she'll still end up giving him food poisoning when she tries to cook.

Felicity is right here, in his home, his mansion, just a few doors away, and yet he can't help but feel, sometimes, like there's entire mountains between them. And deep, dark crevasses. Sometimes he can't help but miss Felicity – his wife, Felicity. The one who had seen him through his darkest days and stood fast in his way when he was going off half-cocked. The one who reeled him in and left him free. The one who loved and believed in him.

He swallows against the lump in his throat as he picks up the two clothing rails at the bottom, not even taking a glance at the clothes and shoes on it, lifting one with each hand as he carries them upstairs.

He's done this to himself – but also for himself, he knows. This will be a better story. For them. For Star City – Starling City. For the Queen family. Less grief, less loss, less bloodshed. Less lies and denial. But sometimes he can't help but miss what he had, what he'd given up when he decided to save the universe. The multiverse.

But, in the end, Felicity was right then as she always had been, he thinks, as he raps his knuckles against the door to her temporary bedroom, clothing rails beside him, ready to be wheeled in.

What they had was so much bigger than the fracking universe.

Notes: Okay - I'm not planning on going through all of Season 1.
We will have an attack by China White. We will have family breakfast. We will have Diggle. We will have Salmon Ladder exercising and we will have discussions with Felicity and the Lance family.
I'm open to suggestions on what else you'd like to see (read). What you want more / less of. More interaction with. Specific scenes. Anything! Let me know.
And please review :)