A/N: Hello Gentle Viewer. Wanted to extend my thanks for the continued support via follows and reviews. I appreciate them all and several have been quite lovely so keep 'em coming. Also, a little 'making-of' note – I first envisioned this tale as a simple two-shot containing the first chapter and this one which has somehow become chapter seven. I'm not complaining and I hope you aren't either. And, no, this is not the end. Sinceriously yours.

"You're really not going to tell me?" Oliver called behind him in mild disbelief but his voice traveled far above and below echoing lightly in the aged stone stairwell.

"What happens in Coast City stays in Coast City." Felicity's winded response carried a playful bite though she couldn't see the smile grow on Oliver's face.

"Is that so?"

"Seriously Oliver?! How many more steps is it?" She added exasperated to winded and her words seemed to vibrate endlessly around them.

Unable to resist seeing the look on her face, Oliver ceased climbing and turned around. He wasn't disappointed. Felicity had stopped about ten steps below him. One hand was characteristically on her hip while the other was planted firmly on the cobblestone wall helping her stay upright. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright from the exertion. His heart jumped, beating faster. Not from the exertion. And his jaw twitched slightly before he pressed his lips hard together suppressing the smirk that would surely have gotten him chastised.

"Not many," he replied coolly.

Her head tilted. "You said that a hundred steps ago." Her tone very much indicating she would like to say something else, probably something about him at least having the decency to break a sweat. And she had accused him in the past of have the resting heart rate of a hibernating hedgehog. Whatever that meant.

He closed the distance swiftly, effortlessly, two stairs at a time until he stood next to her on the same step. Her arms fell to her sides as she pivoted to face him, her lashes and glasses sheltering her upward gaze. Could it really only have been three days without her? Because looking at her now, Oliver felt like he was looking at her for the first time in weeks. Roy had turned up at the Cave last night. He gave only the barest details of their trip and said Felicity had fallen asleep almost as soon as they got home. Oliver trained him hard for longer than he meant to, hoping Felicity would show, but she didn't. Not until morning. He watched her tear apart a computer and put it back together. When she picked up pliers to go after another one his invitation of an outing sounded like an order but she came anyway. He couldn't read her in a room with Digg and Roy. Now they were across town in Old Starling making their way up an aging tower. It was the first time they had really been alone together since that night. And just like that night, he felt the trust in her eyes was a mistake. It shouldn't be possible for one look to make him feel – whole. He blinked himself out of reverie.

Now he did let the infamous grin slip out. "It was a standing offer, you know?"

Her lips parted ever so slightly and she sucked in a breath as her pupils quickly expanded and retracted. Then she started back up the stairs without ceremony. "You may not carry me up these stairs." It was her third such refusal. She thought she was taking away his mirth. But it dawned on him now as his eyes were gliding up her bare calves that following her was much more fun.

Thus was he distracted when Felicity whirled unexpectedly, and his eyes had to dart dramatically upward. But he was far too practiced to blush, or so he thought.

They were nearly eye to eye, one step separating them, and she was leaning toward him. Her right hand came to lightly grip his shoulder. Then her foot popped up behind her and she plucked off one sling-backed heel followed by a swapping of hands and shoulders and a similar removal. Each move in blissful slow motion. She shrunk before him with a hum as her overworked feet came to rest on the cool stone. Oliver was bringing his hand up with a mind to rest it on her hip when the loops of her heels were deposited on his index finger and they banged together with a satisfying clack that resonated on her face, something he'd never seen before. His hand was involuntarily at his side again but her hand pressed harder into his shoulder, she was leaning further into him, her eyebrows arched and she looked at him over her glasses.

"I could," she started, her voice low and husky, "tell you what happened in the car." Then her nose scrunched up, the tip of her tongue curling over her top lip before she pulled it back to trap between her teeth and her torso shook with muted giggles. Her hand left his shoulder just as the first vibration reached him and she started again barefoot up the stairs.

Oliver's lungs deflated his mouth gaping, unable to follow immediately, just stupidly staring after her. He wondered if she knew just what she was doing. Mostly recovered, he bounded up behind her. "I think you'd better."

Her shoulders hiccupped with more laughter ahead of him. "Made your sidekick ride in the back. There were some thinly veiled threats against the radio. And the driver. Who doesn't like 80s on 8? He sulked under his red hood for all of ten minutes before I caught him. Eyes closed. Hands up. Seat dancing. Singing every word of Pat Benatar. And Cyndi Lauper. And Belinda Carlisle." Each name was punctuated by her foot on a new step. They were almost at the top now, a visibly old, heavy wooden door in sight and Felicity slowed her pace.

"Roy? Roy Harper?" Oliver took the opportunity to get ahead of her. Unlikely as it sounded, he could picture it, stuck in Felicity's back seat for hours with two headstrong girls – Roy unplugged. The image was priceless. Oliver stopped half turning toward Felicity as she abruptly came to a halt behind him and he braced his shoulder against the door.

"Ooh heaven is a place on earth," Felicity confirmed his suspicion.

He didn't take his eyes off her as he put his weight on one foot, pulled back hardly six inches, and pushed forward. With one small effort the door popped audibly and he held it open for her, his free arm making a chivalrous sweep. And she nodded coyly at him before they both stepped inside.

Felicity's eyes scanned the space. She hadn't paid enough attention to the outside of the building but the room they were now in seemed to cover the entire top of what was just a tall square. It was warmed by the sun, slivers of gold searing through cracks in the shrunken shutters that completely covered the three walls within her view. Tiny dust tornadoes spun in the light as well, freshly unsettled by their entrance. Old crates, broken furniture, and various tarped mounds were present but didn't nearly fill the space. Felicity spied a sad one eyed rocking horse and a legless piano half hidden under musty books and dark cloth.

"There are two stairwells. A trap door. Nearly a two hundred and seventy degree view. City on two sides, bay on the other. Plus a high ground advantage." Oliver had set her shoes on an ancient apple crate and was three quarters of the way through throwing open the shutters of glassless windows. The sun was setting in one. It's reflection seen in the water in another. But Felicity didn't see either. She'd turned back to the wall where they'd entered and was fixated on one thing, pointing in slight indignation waiting for Oliver to look her way, completely uninterested in the tactical attributes of the place.

"What is that?" She'd grown tired of waiting.

Oliver spun then followed her finger to what no one could argue was an elevator, old and industrial but invitingly open. He stepped in front of her hiding it from her view. "It's broken."

Her eyes narrowed at him, unsure if she believed him but she went back to examining the space, quickly coming to the conclusion that she couldn't fit the pieces of this place together to satisfy her growing curiosity. He stood willingly by and she caved. "What is this? Or was it?"

His eyes sparkled at possessing knowledge she didn't. He'd known that all her Queen family digging didn't erase the fact that she hadn't grown up in Staring City and this place had probably escaped her notice, keen as it was. It had no tech, little monetary value, and he'd never been arrested or almost killed there. It was steeped in much older history.

He stood next to her by one window. Below stretched the barely rebuilding city. He didn't recognize at first the thing that filled his lungs and made him feel somehow weightless for a second – hope. "This building has been here since before the official founding of Starling," he started. "It was a convent for almost a hundred years. An orphanage for part of that time as well. Then it was sold, part of a large land parcel that became Dearden Women's College. Eventually it got absorbed into Starling City College which moved Central Campus inland. The building was forgotten but remained a part of the Dearden Trust. And it is officially a historical landmark so it can't ever be torn down."

Felicity had turned toward him at the mention of his mother's maiden name. She carefully watched his face as it continued to survey the city. Moira had come from an old money Starling family. That much Felicity knew but she assumed the Dearden assets had been swallowed up by the ravenous Queen Consolidated decades ago. They were standing in a piece of her history, Oliver's history. She'd never brought up Moira's murder. Oliver never asked her about Vegas. Mothers were neither of their favorite subject.

Oliver's eyes which had been staring away were now looking down into hers. His soft, sad gaze was familiar and needy.

"A convent!" It suddenly hit her. "Oliver Queen brought me to a convent. For nuns. As in 'Get thee to a nunnery'? More Hamlet! From the man who swears up and down he's never studied Shakespeare. But he's going to put me in a convent. Really gives new meaning to 'Absent thee from Felicity a while.' Though, I'm pretty much cloistered already. God knows the only men who've touched me in months are you and Slade Wilson-"

She was quieted by Oliver suddenly, and honestly roughly, grabbing her wrist. He was painfully searching for something in her eyes. The hand that held her wrist released it and came to the side of her face, calloused finger tips just brushing her jawline, thumb ghosting over her cheekbone. She half sighed into it but wouldn't lean into his palm. She thought he'd read too much into her guardedness as she saw him stiffen, muscles contracting along his entire body and frowned lightly up at him. The corner of her eye caught his free hand balled in a fist so tightly she was afraid he'd break his own fingers. He hadn't moved otherwise, completely rigid, he wasn't even breathing. His eyes had gone dark and she could feel a pit a fear open in her stomach before a tingle ran the length of her spine.

"Oliver?" she barely heard her own voice.

He couldn't even take a breath before he spoke, his words so thick they could barely escape his throat but also rasped by a struggle to tramp down his ire. "You said he didn't hurt you."

Felicity thought the rage surrounding Slade had calmed that he had reached some level of peace but Oliver stood before her weaponized, veins and muscles throbbing angrily, and his face going white. Her own response clearly wasn't helping, and the idea that she was somehow responsible for Oliver's current condition overwhelmed her, a tear sliding down her cheek over his hand. Also not helping.

Felicity's tear on his inflamed skin was cool but Oliver still felt like Slade had punched a hole in his chest to trap his heart in his mammoth fist. He took in a long shaking breath getting more Felicity in his lungs than oxygen. "You wouldn't lie to . . . . to protect me?"

"Kind of my job," slipped from her lips before she had even finished the thought and she cursed her vile tongue for not being properly connected to her brain. She couldn't bear to see any more pain cross his face and her head dropped in shame.

So unfalteringly Felicity. He would have laughed, if he wasn't afraid the force would shatter him into jagged pieces. His forehead rested on hers, miles past desperate now, he needed the anchor. He hadn't asked her much about it. The plan had worked, almost too well. She was safe. Slade was locked up. He hadn't let himself think beyond that and this was why. "Felicity-"

He reluctantly lifted his head and brought her face up in both his hands now. When he found her eyes again they apologized, her palm pressed into his chest fingers spread over his heart and it eased the other invisible hand away. "Oliver, I have never lied to you."

He nodded slowly, his eyes glazing over in relief. They seemed to slip from each other's grasp at the same time to stare out the window again. Oliver's elbows rested against the sill and his hands rubbed across his head before interlocking on his neck. This was not the conversation he planned on having today.

Felicity's hip rested against the window frame, one hand on the wall beside, ankles crossed, feet still bare. It was a pretty good view. She noticed the roads she could identify spread out seemingly from the base of the tower; smaller roads ran the opposite way creating the city grid she was familiar with. You could easily get anywhere in the city from this starting point. "So why did you need to show me the great sight lines and quick escape routes in this nunnery?"

"It's not a nunnery." Oliver straightened his stance but didn't look at her. "It's a secondary secondary location." He really had to get better at naming things.

She didn't say anything right away. And he couldn't read her any better here than the Cave or the Foundry before that. Enigmatic – she could keep some emotions so tightly guarded when everything else showed on her face, spilled out in her words, and burned into his brain next the things he wished he could take back. The things that made her unnaturally reserved.

"What about when you want to be alone?"

His hand found hers easily and he laced his fingers firmly through hers.

"I don't want to be alone."