Hi everyone!

I know I took forever to update, I'll be honest about it. I've been feeling a bit lost about this story lately, doubting and second guessing quite a lot what's already been written and whatever new chapter or snippet I pen down too. I know where I want it to go, but it doesn't feel genuine sometimes. Even this chapter got out of my hands and the conversation I wanted to happen ended up taking a very different direction.

I'm not going to give up on it, that's for sure. But I don't feel as confident about it anymore, so updating will probably take longer than it used to. Anyway, I hope you are still enjoying it and stick with me for what's to come; just wanted you guys to know it's not that I'm not trying or want to update, but that I'm struggling with it.

On another note, this chapter is dedicated to the lovely BlueMorgana :) Hope it cheers you up (even though it's kind of angsty, but oh well, it's an update I guess)

EASY SILENCE

Easy silence that you make for me

It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me

And the peaceful quiet you create for me

And the way you keep the world at bay for me

They were thrown back to business soon after that, Oliver feeling more motivated than ever before. Between the fact that talk on the undertaking had been dead silent for quite a while, and that Felicity had asked him for a few days to get her thoughts in order, he had dived head first into his work, crossing a name after another.

Friday night in the lair started pretty promising, with a shirtless Oliver training over her station, because where else could he do pull ups from a pipe on the ceiling? Between grunts and shallow breaths he asked about the night's target -or targets if it was up to him-, Felicity doing her best to follow the conversation, begrudgingly tearing her eyes from the bulging muscles of his back to gather the intel necessary on her screens.

Once a target had been picked Oliver dropped to the floor graciously, making it look far more effortless that it probably was; then picked his notebook up and turned to her.

"John Nikel then. We'll cross him off the list tonight." He announced and waited for her to look away from the screens and meet his eyes again before going on, softer voice in form of a question. Are you okay with this?

Though not always outright saying it, Oliver had taken the habit of waiting for her approval on their targets and plan of action. And, more and more with time, Felicity had found herself giving the go-ahead; understanding his reasons and how much good could be done.

"One hundred percent," she voiced, clear and firm as her eyes followed Nikel's figure on the footage playing on her screens.

"Great," Oliver added beside her, prompting Diggle to go get ready, and he himself turning to change into his vigilante suit.

It took a full minute for her attention to drift from the target to Oliver's presence behind her, rustling clothes being heard as he took his work-out pants off. Felicity kept her back to him, not wanting to break the illusion and also very aware of the mostly naked Oliver behind her, which couldn't lead to anything good.

She could swear he was doing it on purpose, testing the waters maybe, his smirk so clearly felt even without having her eyes on him. And yes, even through heartbreak and several years awol Oliver Queen still had that effect on her; then again, he wasn't totally unaffected by her either, if last week's encounter was any indication.

Taking a deep breath once a zipper had been heard, Felicity turned to face him and was effectively met with a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips, blue eyes dancing with joy. Before she could doubt herself she bee lined to his desk and, after retrieving his bow from his dear trunk, met him at the center of the lair.

"Be safe." She simply said as softly as she could while still trying to make it sound like a warning. Don't get yourself killed. Don't kill if you don't have to. And many more that didn't need to be voice for him to understand and give a slight nod before taking his bow from her and meeting Diggle upstairs.

Still what had seemed as another normal case soon spiraled out of control.

One minute Oliver stormed fuming into the lair because their target had been taken, then he'd been talked into dinner with Diggle only to get confronted over the palpable tension his thing with Felicity was leaving him with; the next he was racing through the city trying to save a man's life only to end up hearing Felicity's cry over the comm when a trigger had been pulled.

Every ounce of anger and annoyance he had slipped away the second he stepped back into the lair and found her barely holding on, standing yet feeling so lost, eyes brimming with tears as that gunshot echoed in her mind.

It wasn't your fault, he said; yet it wasn't enough. Though she didn't burden herself with every failure as he did, this one weighted her down as two men had already died, life going out of them right in front of her eyes.

He understood, having felt that way more times that he could count back before death became so familiar and expected. So instead of using his words, that more often than not failed him miserably, Oliver followed her lead, recounting how easily she had comforted him upon Tommy's reveal, and laid a hand on her shoulder.

Their eyes met, unshed tears shining on hers propelling him forward until she was enveloped in his arms, pressing her face to his neck, silent tears dampening his skin as he held her close.

Yet time never seemed to be on their side as Roy got taken. Everything happened on a blur after that and, even though they cracked the code and Thea's friend got to safety, it still felt like a failed mission; another body dropped from his bow, another needless death they couldn't prevent.

By the time Oliver made it back to the club and checked on Thea, Felicity was long gone; much too much strain for a day's work. As he walked towards his bike to head home for the same reasons he couldn't shake the look on her face, how broken and guilt ridden she had seemed that afternoon. Before he could second guess his choice he texted her and picked something up; his bike roaring to life next as he sped through the city streets towards her place.

She opened the door wearing another of those baggy sweaters that looked so good on her, a drained expression on her face even as she faked a smile for his benefit; yet him, as the king of pretending, read right through it, though appreciating the gesture.

Felicity stayed uncharacteristically silent as she let him inside, words just leaving her lips when she spotted what he had brought with him.

"Is that what I think it is?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he offered her the bottle of wine he had been holding behind his back.

"Lafite Rothschild 1982," Felicity read the label mirroring his expression before teasing him slightly. "You finally won that scavenger hunt, hun?"

"I may have bought a case after that with hopes we would get to share it someday. Tonight seemed like a good time as any for a glass of wine or two."

"Three, I would say." Felicity corrected and went for a couple of glasses as he walked towards her living room. Settling on the couch he waited until she padded her way over, poured them a generous amount of red wine and took a seat beside him.

As they waited for the wine to air out, silence took over the room, all trace of amusement or teasing gone as his eyes got lost in the distance. Not one to miss any changes in his demeanor, Felicity laid a hand over his where it lay on his leg, soft fingers soothing over rough skin as he pondered his words.

"I killed him."

His words echoed around them, saddened and remorseful; her hold on his hand tightening in reply.

"You had to. I heard it all go down, Oliver. He would have killed Thea's friend if you hadn't."

Somehow that didn't make the weight in his chest any lighter. In days like this one he wondered how much easier this job would be if he stopped caring, if he went back to being the deadly machine he was before returning home, how similar he was to the man he had just killed today, what set them apart.

Her warmth seeped into him from where she held his hand, a light tug making him meet her eyes.

"You are not the same. I know that now, and so should you." Felicity breathed, as if she were reading his thoughts. That ability scared the hell out of him, for the scars that run way beneath the surface weren't something he was sure she should see as of yet.

Still Felicity never seized to surprise him and whatever she saw in his gaze barely made her waiver before leaning in and brushing her lips ever so lightly over his. Just one touch, then two, no pressure or hurry, just comfort, one soft touch at the time.

She pulled back before he could react, a gentle smile now pulling at the corner of his lips in thanks. A shy nod was her only response before she turned away to pick up their glasses, handing him the emptiest one; one meaningful look exchanged for him to realize this was another trait of his she had picked up upon without the need for asking.

Felicity leaned back against the couch and focused on her glass, sipping absentmindedly as silence enveloped them once more.

Unlike what could be expected, considering how words left her lips in a flurry at all times, silences with Felicity were anything but awkward. Before the island he had rejoiced in loud, mind-numbing noise filling his brain until he couldn't hear himself think. Then silence had become a friend, a preferred setting so dangers could be heard, anticipated, controlled. Survival ruled his life, every painful moment urging him to be alert, conscious,ready. When back in the city, home, noise had come blasting in again; too many questions, too much people knocking into his life again. Every moment of silence, of hesitation from him was analyzed and decrypted as trouble. So he had picked up the habit of filling the blanks, muttering lies for the benefit of others, appearing to be whole while fighting the urge to run away from it all. And then there was Felicity.

She was the calm within the storm; the one who could nimbly pick his thoughts apart, read the lines on his face and the ghosts in his eyes so clearly. The one who stayed by his side, who came back, who put up with his failures and short comings, from now and back then. The one that made him feel like he could be himself with, darkness and all; that made him feel safe.

She must had noticed he was staring, blue pools lost in the distance yet so aware of every move she made, every breath she took. If she did she let him, sensing he needed to collect his thoughts, or even needing to gather hers as well. Silence remained until she had well downed her first glass and was nursing her second; his laid nearly untouched on the coffee table. He neither needed nor wanted the haze it brought onto his mind, now only drank just enough to taste the rich flavor, keep up appearances when necessary; but not tonight.

There was little pretending when Felicity turned to him again, clear eyes so open, inviting, delicate lips parting tasting the words on her tongue.

"I wanted to ask you something." She paused for a moment; his slight nod gave her the last incentive needed. "That day at your place when you told me about… before; you said that after the ship tipped over your father had made it to the life raft. Yet… I'm sorry if this is too much, I'll just drop it."

"No." He paused, taking a deep breath. He wasn't holding back, not anymore, not with her. "He did. We survived the shipwrecked, but were stranded on the raft, no land in sight. After a while he realized both of us couldn't live on with what we had. So… he took the gun and shot himself."

"Oliver…" Her voice drifted off, an offer to stop, a sigh of pain, of regret.

Still he went on, taking a moment to ponder each word before it left his lips. Those were thoughts he had kept to himself for so long, burdened by them, ashamed, afraid. Yet one word from her lips and he knew she could handle it, she would take it in and not run away, even if he felt like he deserved it.

"His last words were 'survive'." His eyes were lost in the distance, a humorless chuckle filling the room after a full minute of silence. "You know, sometimes I hated him for that; dying for me, having that in my conscious. On the island I wanted to die, so many times to just let go… it would've been so easy. Yet there he was, in the back of my mind telling me I had to go on, 'right his wrongs'."

She placed a hand on his face, awakening him from his gaze, mind lost on his island days. When he focused back on her she could clearly see the anguish in his gaze, her thumb gliding over the planes of his face. Blue eyes shut in response, relishing in her touch, trying to keep the tears stinging the back of his eyes from falling free.

They sat like that for a while, neither knew how long, until one of his hands caught hers, stilling her movements.

"Thank you," he whispered before leaving the softest kiss against her knuckles, dark eyes meeting once more for her to see how grateful he was.

"Anytime; I mean it."

Thanks for reading!
As always, encouragement or constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. (especially in these times when I feel like I'm failing this story :s)