"Felicity, I'm telling you, it's not working," Oliver's voice came out rough, on the verge of frustration.

"Did you press the button?"

"Felicity." He had taken her suggestion of a test run for the new comms literally. That was forty-five minutes and almost ten miles ago.

He couldn't sit in that cave with Diggle watching his every move another second. Especially because his every move today left his eyes on Felicity, the way the curve of her ponytail brushed the curve of her neck, the way her low heeled ankle boots showed off her calves, the way she laughed out loud at whatever thoughts it was she managed to keep inside her head. It left him itching to say things he knew he shouldn't and do things he couldn't easily take back.

Now he was pacing an alleyway between two buildings downtown about ready to scale the side of the taller one in broad daylight, people passing by in skirts and suits on the sidewalk ten feet away, wondering how he had so epically lost control.

He took a deep breath. "On. Off. Mute. Volume. No change." It wasn't her he was frustrated with.

"I'll just do it on my end. Push your buttons. Mute the comm," she may have been a little frustrated with him and his chuckle didn't help. "I'm muting it now," she said. And then for a brief moment there was nothing. He stopped pacing, letting his eyelids drop, bringing fingertips to his forehead. Then – "Once upon a time, there was a technologically impaired, ex-billionaire prince named Oliver."

"I heard that."

"Yeah, I don't think they're working. Come back. I'll take them apart. Again." Even Felicity was starting to despise technology. Every day it seemed there was something else cracked, corrupted, or otherwise incompatible – things the Oliver Queen of two months ago had only to snap his fingers to cure.

"Felicity, I told you, order the new ones. I'm not completely destitute. You made sure of it."

What she had done was syphon funds from QC, the Queen Estate, several of their unsavory foes, and even Isabel Rochev depositing it all into a ghost account. Not much, a cushion. A pin-cushion. The Arrow Emergency Fund. And, to his mind, the only truly dishonest thing she had ever done. So, naturally, she wouldn't touch a penny of it for her own benefit.

"And I told you, we don't need to spend money on things that I am perfectly capable of fixing. I know that capability seems questionable right now but it's been scientifically proven that moving is among the most stressful life events. I still haven't gotten my chair back to the right height," Felicity was still capable of using fifty words when one would do the job.

"Fine. I'm buying lunch," there was almost a growl in his tone, but even without it, he knew Felicity would give him that small concession, especially when she found out what he had to offer. "I passed the taco truck half a dozen times already."

"Fine. Don't forget the guacamole."

Oliver didn't have to see the sparkle in her eyes to know it was there. He made his way back to the sidewalk and turned in the direction he had last seen the culinary marvel on wheels realizing a smile had appeared on his lips too. "Never again. Not after last time. You nearly took-" Someone stepped in front of him on the sidewalk effectively blocking his way and his words.

"Ollie?"

"Laurel?" It wasn't really a question, more a general shock. Laurel had been pretty scarce since the Slade Incident with good reason he now remembered. "I – How's your father?"

She seemed surprised too, and relieved. "Much better. He's made a lot of progress the last few days. He'll be able to go home soon." Sobriety looked good on her – less makeup, fewer rings, a healthy fullness in her cheeks again. For once she wasn't wearing one of those mind boggling business suits. "They're talking about commendations and promotion."

"Good. That's – he deserves them." Oliver meant it. There were enough causalities in his ledger already. And, Detective Lance, in spite of everything, was a good ally. A good man.

"The city should be giving you awards," Laurel said it with surety but even her carefully honed conviction couldn't make it true.

"No. They shouldn't." All the reasons why flashed through Oliver's mind. Everything she could never know, he recollected so easily it was a mere two seconds of torture playing just behind his eyes. Then, he saw her before him, shifting, hesitating knowing she didn't come by either honestly. He studied her a little harder than he should, harder than he'd ever had to.

"I'm sorry, Oliver."

"For what?"

She could see the old Oliver ghost across his features – confused, sweet, and unknowingly worthy. "I think I overstepped. Before, coming to you where I didn't belong, yelling and preaching as if one piece of ill-gotten knowledge meant that I still knew everything about you, knowing our history would still hold sway. It was selfish. And it wasn't what you needed. Not really."

Oliver could see it as she spoke, how it was she always won people over. Simple sincerity. She always meant exactly what she said. He was waking up now to the tunnel vision it created. "I'm glad." And in that realization, the blackness at his periphery started to fade, the people passing by them and the city spreading out beyond becoming clearer. His mind becoming clearer finally.

"I am glad that you know the truth Laurel. You are the only person left from my life before. I need you to see who I am now. And I need you to understand – I can't bring someone else into this."

He paused letting her take it in, but not for long. There was more he needed to say, and difficult as it was, he felt he better say it all at once. "For years, we've been holding on to shadows of each other. I just think for us to become the people we're both meant to be, we have to let go."

There it was.

Oliver found himself standing completely still, an inability to move rather than an unwillingness. He could feel a tightness growing in his chest as he looked down at Laurel unable to do anything else. Her eyes were as soft and warm as ever. The corner of her mouth upturned slightly. With a rush of relief, he realized he'd been holding his breath and it came out with something nearing a laugh. "Wow, uh, that was kind of intense."

A full smile broke on Laurel's face and she laughed too, truly. "Well, it is the first time you've broken up with someone."

"Hey!" Oliver feigned hurt but was becoming calmer and surer of his choice.

Laurel reached for his arm as her chuckle faded but her smile remained. "Ollie. Oliver, I understand. And, you will be – the person you're meant to be, probably before you know it."

He let her hand slide down his forearm but caught it in his before she pulled away. "Thank you."

She gave him a nod of acknowledgement and slipped her fingers from his grasp. "We'll figure it out. How to be a part of each other's lives when the time is right."

She wasn't sure she could have done what Oliver just had. Still believing her courage only went so far. But he was right; they couldn't move ahead and still be so involved. Not now. She could take that step back but there was something else eating at her. A tiny twinge of guilt, she supposed, that had been since Sara had left.

"Tell Felicity, I'm sorry. I think I've been kind of a bitch to her." She could admit it. She had been rude and dismissive and it had started even before the drinking the first time she had seen her at Verdant and assumed she was some cheap fling, some Oliver Queen groupie.

Oliver tilted his head at her, a little confused and little apologetic. "Laurel, she's not-"

"I know," she cut him off. He didn't owe her an explanation. And she did know. Felicity Smoak was not the reason they couldn't be in each other's lives right now. Not the main one anyway. Certainly not the reason Oliver told himself. Laurel was sure of that.

"You could talk to her yourself. You'd like her."

"That's what I'm afraid of, Ollie." She started to back away still looking at Oliver, some kind of amusement painted on his face. She didn't say goodbye. She just smiled and nodded again before sweeping past his shoulder and on down the sidewalk behind him.

He didn't look back at her. He just started walking, focused on what lay ahead. After about a block, he broke the silence.

"This has to be some kind of record. Ten whole minutes with nothing to say?"

Felicity's choking gasp came through the comm, a mortified tone in her voice that Oliver was very familiar with, "I am so sorry, Oliver."

"Don't be." He'd never forgotten she was there. He didn't even care that she had basically been eavesdropping.

"I'm going to order the new ones," she was so embarrassed she'd skipped right over the stammering stage and gone straight to decisive corrective action.

"Don't. I like these."