-7-

Laurel could tell that there was something wrong with Oliver – she was pretty sure that he hadn't been listening to anything she had been saying ever since she had arrived in his office. She sighed and put down the file in her hand, leaning back in her chair.
"All right, out with it, Ollie," she said, crossing her arms. "Tell me what's wrong."
Oliver blinked a couple of times and sat up straighter in his chair. "Sorry?" he said.
"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or do I have to ring Felicity and ask her?"
An almost imperceptible grimace passed across his face as she mentioned Felicity's name. Her eyebrows rose.
"Has this got something to do with Felicity?" she asked.
He gave her a long look, his expression schooled back to its usual stoniness. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She smirked at him. "Liar."
He gave her another stony look, then seemed to relent as he let out a big sigh.
"We had a fight. I think."
"Why? Did you tell her that you love her, and then change your mind?"
He glared at her but interestingly enough he didn't deny it. She shrugged off the irritated stare he was giving her.
"I'm just going with your history, Ollie," she said.
"It's complicated."
"Of course it is. It's always complicated with you." She sighed. "Is she mad at you?"
"I don't know. Probably."
"Are you mad at her?"
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Never."
Laurel felt a little taken aback seeing that subtle smile flickering across Oliver's face. She had never seen such tenderness on his face before. It had only been a second - a tiny crack in the stern facade that he wore around him like armour; but it was all she needed to convince her of the depth of his feelings for Felicity.
"Look, Ollie, don't make the mistake of treating Felicity like you've treated everyone else," she told him. "She knows you, I would argue better than anyone else nowadays. And the fact of the matter is, she hasn't left you. She's the only person I know, including you and including me, who has never given up on you. So if that isn't someone you can spend the rest of your life with, then I don't know what to say to you."
Laurel found it rather bemusing and enlightening that she was perfectly fine with the fact that Ollie clearly loved Felicity, and that on top of that, she was actually telling him off for not admitting it to her. Once upon a time she had thought that she would spend the rest of her life with him – but ever since she had found out that he was the Arrow, it was as if something inside her had finally clicked. When he had gotten back from the island, she had treated him like the Ollie she had once known, and in response to that, he had acted like the Ollie he once was. But now that they were being honest with each other, now that she knew the truth about his mask as the Arrow and his mask as the playboy Oliver Queen, she could see glimpses of the new man he had become underneath – and she knew that it wasn't her who had brought it out in him. It was Felicity.
She picked up the files from his desk and stood up, giving him a sympathetic smile. "I'll come back and talk to you about these later," she said.
"We can talk about them now."
"No, we can't," she said. She glanced through his glass walls and saw Felicity storming towards his office. "I think you're about to have some company."
Oliver shifted his gaze from her to Felicity's fast approaching figure. A flicker of unease passed over his face, making her smile again.
"I'll give you some advice a good friend once told me," she said. "Just be honest…Oliver."

Felicity marched her way towards Oliver's office, her ponytail swinging, her heels clicking and her temper fuming.
"Hi Laurel," she said as she passed her in the corridor.
"Morning Felicity," Laurel said, giving her a knowing smile.
When Felicity got to Oliver's office, she found him sitting at his desk, evidently waiting for her. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored grey suit, well-groomed and handsome, the epitome of self-control and sophistication.
She wanted to kill him.
"You," she seethed, coming to a stop in front of his desk and pointing an accusing finger at him, "are not a nice person."
"Felicity," he started to say in that stoic manner of his, but she stopped him with a glare and whiplash wave of her hand.
"Don't," she said. "Don't even start."
She watched him stand up slowly, calm and composedly, and she practically had to stop herself from leaping over the desk and strangling him.
"I know that you're mad about what happened this morning– " he started to say. But she interrupted him.
"You think I'm mad about you kissing me and then walking away?" she said. "Please! I could have written the entire script of how that was going to work out. You kiss me, you pull away, we pretend it never happened and we all live happily ever after." She glared at him and pulled out her phone, shoving it towards his face from across the desk.
"But this! Oliver! How could you do this to me? I get a phone call from S.T.A.R Labs telling me how my boss, Mr Queen, rang them this morning with a glowing recommendation about me and how he told them that he's working really hard to convince me that this opportunity to move to Central City shouldn't be missed." She stared at him, so full of hurt and anger that there were tears in her eyes. "Why do you want to send me away?"
"It isn't like that," he said, his voice flat.
She took a deep breath and counted backwards in her head, trying and failing to find some patience.
"You know what, Oliver? It is exactly like that. I was stupid to think that I was different, that you would never disrespect me or cast me aside like you do every other woman in your life. But I was so wrong."
He stepped out from behind his desk then to stand in front of her, his hands clenched by his sides.
"Please don't say that," he said.
"What am I supposed to say?"
"Felicity," he said, his face sombre, his shoulders drooping. "I tried to make you understand."
"Oliver," she said, looking up at him with an expression that was both frustrated and pleading. "I do understand. I understand you more than anyone."
"Then please..." he said, his voice trailing off.
Looking at his face, seeing how sad and regretful he looked, made all the fury and hurt Felicity was feeling disappear like smoke. For so many years and still even now, Oliver spent most of his waking hours expecting the worst, waiting for the next blow, looking for the next fight. Always ready for it. Never surprised when it came.
She didn't want to be another person he had to fight.
"Do you want me to leave?" she asked quietly.
He let out a deep sigh. "It's not what I want, Felicity. It's what I need. What we both need." He took a step forward and reached out a hand, but she crossed her arms and stepped back away from him. He dropped his hand.
"The Arrow, it's a part of who I am, it's a part of my life now," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If I ask you to be a part of that life…I just don't want you to regret putting your own life on hold for me."
"Why do you think I'd be putting my life on hold?" she asked. "And even if I were putting it on hold, why would you think I would regret it? Even for a second?"
"You would one day."
Felicity dropped her gaze and shook her head. Then she took a steadying breath, took a step forward and kissed Oliver on the lips. Just once. Just to remember.
"Oliver," she said, looking up at him. "I have never, ever given up on you. One day I hope you find a way to have some faith in me too."