I know, I know. The last chapter was more an interlude to show where Oliver's thoughts are at in this point of the story. I must say that I wasn't too happy with chapter four and I don't blame you if you weren't either. I try to make up for it by a very speedy update. I also feel like we all need a little something to make up for the absence of Felicity from Arrow's 5oth episode. And – yes! – I know that's complaining for the privileged and that it's not the Olicity-show and that last episode was really needed to get plot going, but… Come on, you know!

Now that I think about it I don't know if this chapter is the best way to make up from the lack of Olicity, but this is what I need to move the story forward. ;-) I still hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think. As always a big shout out and thank you and all my love to the people who sent me a review for chapter four: MissCrafty, Yelena89, cruzstar and Horsebot3000. Thank you for your unwavering support!

5. It's kill or be killed

It was the strongest reaction to the lightest touch. Felicity's fingertips had barely brushed his cheek before he was sitting upright with his eyes wide and his fists clenched. He was ready for a fight, but there was nobody to attack. Instead he was face to face with Felicity. In the cold light that entered through the small entrance of this cave and cut through the darkness that engulfed them, he saw that she had brought her index finger to her lips. It was the universal gesture that signaled for him to be quiet. Next she motioned toward the slit in the rock that led outside. He heard it instantly. There was somebody out there, nearing their hideout in the middle of the night.

He nodded understanding and pushed the blanket off. Before he had fallen asleep, he had refused to take it, had insisted that Felicity kept the blanket. He needed to have a talk with her about following his orders. Thank God, she trusted his judgment when it came to situations like the one they were in now. She moved instantly while he motioned for her to get behind him as he positioned himself next to the cave's entrance. He felt her body close behind his and put his whole focus on listening to the footsteps that were clearly coming toward them. They were heavy and calculated steps. Definitely male. Definitely only one person. Oliver tightened his muscles, getting ready for a fight. He only had a minute to decide, if it was better to engage him outside or to wait and see if, maybe, he didn't find them and walked right past their hiding-place. Oliver felt Felicity move even closer to him and place her hand on his shoulder. This simple gesture helped him make that decision. It was better to keep everybody as far away from her as possible.

His steps were quick and quiet as he moved out of the cave – and in the next moment he knew that he had made the right decision. His sudden appearance caught the man, who had been coming toward the slit in the rock, by surprise. Oliver used it to his advantage and quickly took the man out. His movements were well-practiced and efficient. First his palm slammed into his opponent's throat to keep him from calling for help. While the skinny man with the long blond hair and the bad tattoos on his knuckles gasped for air, Oliver brought his fist to the man's jaw and his knee into his stomach. As his opponent doubled over, Oliver brought his hand down onto the back of his head guiding it to his still lifted knee. The moment it happened Oliver knew that this was it, the end of the fight. It hadn't been planned, but the force of his knee had been enough to drive the nasal bone into this man's brain. His assailant sank to the ground, unmoving, dead.

Oliver stared down at the body at his feet. The moon was full and bright and illuminating the scene perfectly, revealing every detail of this man, the first person he had killed with his bare hands in quite some time. It was a horrible view, and it distracted him for a moment.

It was just enough for a second attacker to catch Oliver by surprise. He stumbled backward as a fist connected with his lip. Anger filled Oliver. He was angry with this man for hitting him, angry with himself for missing his approach. Oliver had been certain that there was only one man out here. Clearly, he was losing his touch. A warmth was spreading from his lips which told Oliver from experience that it was bleeding. The taste of blood from his split lip angered him even more. Oliver caught himself and turned to face his opponent. The man was greeting him with a smile, revealing that he was lacking a front tooth. His eyes were shining with a sadistic enjoyment as he lifted his right hand and with a quick flick of his wrist let the blade of a knife click into place. "Come and get me," he said with a thick, German accent.

Oliver had been in his share of knife fights – even though, admittedly, none of them had happened two minutes after he had woken up –, and he wasn't stupid enough to rush toward the blade. Instead, he moved to the left, his muscles tense, his eyes on the knife, his hands raised. The other man was moving too and they began to circle each other. The smile was still on the other man's face. It wasn't a pleasant view. Not only because it showed off his horrible dental hygiene, but also because there was no warmth in this smile. A predator would smile at a decidedly weaker victim like that.

"You cannot escape us," the other man said now with a confidence that did nothing but put Oliver at ease. This man thought he had already won this fight, because he had a knife, because he was bigger and brawnier than Oliver. But, honestly, cocky brutes were Oliver's favorite opponents. The ones who were too sure of themselves rarely gave it their all.

The blade slashed toward Oliver's abdomen in the next moment, but he jumped back and reached for the man's hand, directing it away from him. At the same time Oliver brought his foot up and toward this man's chest. Now it was the other one stumbling backwards. Oliver wasn't stupid enough to make the mistake his assailant had made. He didn't give him time to catch himself, to adjust to his new position and his surroundings; he attacked again and moved around him while avoiding the blindly waved knife and succeeded in knocking it from his hand. He reached for the other man's head, closed both hands around it firmly and jerked them forcefully. A cracking sound ripped through the night. It was the audible proof that Oliver snapped this man's neck echoing through the woods.

Oliver stood over the dead body of the knife-wielder, the other corpse only a few steps away, adrenaline rushing through his body, his breathing heavy, his body still ready to strike against anybody who would near him, blood dripping from his chin. He spat a mouthful of blood to the ground. It was a violent scene surrounded by peaceful silence and brightened by cold moonlight. His hand wasn't as steady as he would have liked as he wiped blood away with the back of his hand. Oliver needed a moment to collect himself.

When he had, his eyes travelled to where he knew the entrance of the cave was and landed on Felicity. Oliver didn't even want to imagine what he must looked like to her. He had just killed two men with his bare hands. Felicity, who had been so put off by violence when she had first joined his list-driven task, would most certainly be appalled by witnessing him dealing out death. She had been the one to speak up for the people on the list, reminding him that even they had people who loved and needed them. He had stopped dropping bodies to honor Tommy and his best friend's memory, but Felicity had been the most supportive of his decision. When everybody else had told them he was limiting his possibilities, when he had believed himself to be fighting with one hand tied behind his back, she had been the only one to tell him that he was doing the right thing. She had been the only one to believe he could be the man he wanted to be.

And now he was back to his old ways without hesitating. He was back to his old ways and he didn't regret it, because he had done what was necessary. He just didn't know if she agreed.

He took another moment to make sure that there wasn't a third man ready to attack. When he was absolutely sure that there was no one else around, he turned to Felicity again. She was still standing in the entrance of the cave and he appreciated that she was waiting for him to give her the go. She always did that, she trusted his judgment when it came to battles and fighting. She had always done what he asked her to – and not done what he asked her not to do. Okay, there had been her getting caught by the Count and that whole Tockman-fiasco, she had acted recklessly both times, but she had never gone directly against his orders. Never would she suddenly pop up at a battle scene, catching him by surprise, turning into a distraction, a liability, a problem he needed to fix. Never would she go behind his back like that. If Felicity wasn't happy with one of his orders, she told him. She put her foot down from time to time, telling him that she would take a risk he didn't dare to put her into; he could work with that, because it was honest. She had always been honest with him.

And now he had to be honest with her, had to show her a side of him she had never witnessed before. She had never seen him like this, like the unforgiving killer he had inside him. This wasn't like shooting an arrow that caused a victim to topple backwards and crash though a window of the 35th floor. This was him using his hands to take a life, the same hands that had held her and caressed her face, that had played with her hair while she slept. This was a part of him she had to despise, but no matter how much he wished that it wasn't, it was part of him. There was no hiding it.

They were still looking at each other. Felicity hadn't moved and stood about five meters away from him and the bodies he had dropped. Oliver was glad that she was keeping her distance, that she was looking at him and not at the corpses. Especially his first assailant wasn't a pretty sight. The blood which the nasal bone drilled into his brain had caused to shoot out of his nose and his twisted features looked gruesome.

He realized that he was fixating Felicity with his eyes to keep her gaze on him and away from the two dead men. It worked, she was still looking at him, when she asked, her voice only a whisper, "What now?"

This question caused him to give up his frozen posture. His brain started to really work for the first time since she had woken him up. Oliver didn't know if this was a good thing or not, but he had mostly acted on autopilot in the last few minutes. Fighting was a routine he had well-practiced. Dodging fists, knifes or bullets while landing hits or shots of his own were a second nature to him. He realized that he had just acted without really thinking about it. He shifted his weight as he contemplated her question for a moment and all the possible questions that came along with it. Was it safe to stay here? Was it better to get rid of the bodies or of this hideout? Could he leave the bodies exposed on the forest floor when he and Felicity abandoned the cave? Did he want the other men to know what he was capable of? Was there a way to keep his abilities hidden as long as possible?

His gut told him the answer. "I'll drop them off somewhere else and set a false trail." He bent down to the man whose neck he had snapped not one minute ago and started searching his pockets, but all this man had on him – other than the knife Oliver had already pocketed – was a gun which Oliver stuffed into the waistband of his pants. Then he moved to the second corpse and searched him, too. The first thing he found was a another gun. Silently Oliver thanked his lucky stars that he had taken this man out before he could draw his weapon and that the other one obviously believed his fighting skills to be better than they really were. He pocketed the second gun as well. Then he kept checking his cargo-outfit and fished a folded paper out of the chest pocket.

"What's that?" Felicity asked from behind him.

Oliver could't believe his luck, when he unfolded the paper. His disbelieve showed in his voice, "It's a map."

"Really?"

"Really," he assured her as he walked toward her to hand her the paper. Quickly she took it from him and studied it. Standing next to her he let his eyes move over the surrounding trees. But he didn't really see them as his thoughts were already on his next steps.

Suddenly Felicity spoke up, "Oliver..." Her voice sounded strange, unusually coated. This tone in her voice caused him to look at her instantly. Slowly her eyes left the paper she had been looking at in the bright, white moonlight and settled on him. "Oliver," she repeated. "We're... We're on an island."

Shock hit him. It was like a cold wave crashing through his body, causing all blood to rush to his feet and his heart to suddenly start hammering in his chest. He stared at her for a moment, needing time to collect himself; but even then all he could come up with was, "what?!"

She turned toward him and reached for his arm. She didn't repeat her previous sentence, because he had heard her perfectly, and she knew. It was disbelieve that had caused his last question. He felt honest compassion from her as she said, "I'm sorry."

He ripped his eyes away from her. He couldn't do this now. He wouldn't do this now. If he let this really sink in, he would be useless. This thought caused him to snap into action. Motioning to the two bodies, he said, "I'll take them and search for a good place to get rid of them." Taking a deep breath, he centered himself and got ready to dispose of the bodies, when another thought crossed his mind. He hesitated for a moment, he had sworn to himself that he'd never resort this, but he knew he had to. He held one gun out to Felicity. "Here, take this."

She just looked at him for a moment, before she shook her head. "No, I can't."

"I'll be gone for some time," he explained his reasoning. "Take it just in case somebody else shows up while I'm gone."

"I can't," she repeated.

Oliver still held the gun out. "You were the one complaining that I never taught you anything but hiding."

Her face twisted at having her words pushed back into her face. "I ca-" She kept from telling him that she couldn't a third time. Instead, she reluctantly reached for the barrel of the gun and held it in the most awkward way possible. "Wow, that's heavier than I thought. Who would have thought that a gun has that much weight? Okay, that was a deeper comment than I intended. I never even held a gun, you know. Even though, one of my mom's boyfriends had a shooting range. But I never liked being there. The noise of guns being fired freaks me out. I don't think I ever appreciated the fact that your arrows are so quiet before."

"Felicity." He cupped her left cheek with his hand. "You shooting this gun is our worst-case scenario. But I need you to have it with you, just in case. I'll be gone for some time." He let go of her, now that his touch had calmed her down a little, and made her grip the gun correctly. "There on the trigger is a safety lock, like a triangle, can you feel it under your index finger?"

Felicity nodded while swallowing heavily. "Yeah, I can."

"You need to have your finger on it perfectly or the gun won't shoot."

She nodded again and now dared to look at him. "Okay."

He met her eyes. "The most important rule you need to follow is: aim."

"Aim," she repeated.

"Take your time to make sure you're shooting at a bad guy."

"And not you as you suddenly come around a corner, you mean."

"I would prefer if you avoided doing that, yes." The dim teasing left his voice as he now looked at her sternly. "This gun is the last solution. Only use it, if there's nothing else you can do. But if there's nothing else you can do, use it. Aim for the chest. It's the biggest target. Avoid the head, that makes a mess."

She nodded and immediately lowered her hand with the gun. She looked at it undecidedly for a moment. Oliver nearly winced when she trapped the gun between her upper arm and her ribs, handling it as if it were a magazine or something. Never would she handle her tablet like that, Oliver thought, but she did it with a firearm. He reached for it, taking it away from her. "Felicity," he chided, "this is a gun. Please, handle it with care." He stuffed it into the waistband of her skirt in her back and looked at her strictly.

She looked a little caught and nodded. "Sure, sorry." She now unfolded the map again. "I just wanted to check if we can find a place for you to hide these guys..."

They didn't. Nothing on the map seemed like a good place to dispose of two corpses. In the end Oliver decided to go the distraction route again and carried each of the bodies one mile into two different directions only to then fake signs of a fighting and drag the bodies somewhere else entirely to leave a trail that was very easy to follow. Maybe it was too obvious. Maybe their bold and butch boss had ordered those guys to search the area near the cave and knew that they couldn't have been in the places their bodies would be found. Maybe this was the last proof these guys needed that Felicity and he were still alive. All of these maybes were a possibility, but Oliver had to take the risk, because it was the only thing he could think of with the limited options and his mind being distracted by the fact that he had ended up on another island! Before he returned to the cave he carefully assured that he didn't leave a trail toward their real hideout behind.

The sun was already rising when Oliver returned to the cave. Part of him feared that Felicity would greet him with a bullet, but when he entered the cave, he once again saw nothing. This time he didn't give in to panic instantly. Instead, he said, "It's me."

His greeting caused her to rush toward him from the alcove. She hugged him in the next moment. "Thank God, you're back." It was a forceful hug, but she let go of him quickly. "Here," she pressed the gun into his hand. "Take it back. I can't deal with that. Just holding it makes my hands sweaty. The idea that I might have to shoot it is freaking me out. I – unlike you – can admit when I was wrong. And I was wrong. I am fine with hiding."

He was too tired to fight and just took the gun. Without saying a word, he sank down to the floor. He didn't know how long he had slept before Felicity had awoken him, but judging by how heavy his body felt it hadn't been long enough. He leaned his head back against the rock wall and closed his eyes. A constant throbbing spread from his split lip and his jaw was aching.

"Here." Her voice caused him to slowly open his eyes again. She was kneeling in front of him and holding out the Snickers bar. "You look like you could use some serotonin."

He didn't move. It took him a few heartbeats until he lifted his hands and reached for the chocolate. "Thanks." He closed his eyes again. His legs were bent, his arms were resting on his knees, his right hand held on to the Snickers, but he made no move to actually eat it.

"I'm sorry, I was so freaked out before. I-"

"Felicity." His voice had an impatient edge, because he really couldn't deal with that now. "Stop apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for. Everything's fine. I just need a moment, please."

She gave him a moment of silence – a very short moment that lasted approximately ten seconds. Her voice was soft when she said, "I remember when you came back from your island to Starling after the Undertaking and you didn't want to be the vigilante anymore." He opened his eyes again and looked at her as she sat in the dim light of the rising sun that crept through the small entrance. "Back then you said you didn't want to put on the hood again, because when you did it was kill or be killed. I never really understood that. Not even after the Count. But I get it now. I get the weight of that decision. Of being able to make that decision. And you decided right tonight. You had no other choice. I admit that I am biased, but I really mean it. I know you don't want to be that man again. It's a good thing that killing doesn't come easy to you anymore. The fact that you still did it, doesn't make you a bad person. I am very proud of you." She reached for the blanket that lay in a heap close to her. "And now you should get some rest. You barely slept one hour. I will wake you, if I hear anything." She tried a small smile. "But first you have to eat. Don't even try to argue."

For once, he didn't.