Thank you for the kind reviews! The last chapter (Seven Years) didn't bump the story up on the FF page, so be sure you didn't miss it. Its angsty and heavy and I think thats kind of what we can expect this season.

From SmoakandArrow's flash fiction prompt: Impulses

Oliver Queen had always been a slave to impulse. He supposed that it came from his privileged upbringing-he simply did as he wanted without any consideration for the consequences. He took what, and who he wanted, with little regard for who he hurt. When he returned to Starling City, he considered himself to be measured, calculating and careful. But apparently five years in hell couldn't make you forget your youthful ignorance, because he was still impulsive. He recognized that most of his erratic behavior since returning stemmed directly from the challenge of living a double life. His decision to sleep with Helena and Laurel were exhibits A and B. When he had first returned, there was still a part of him that was the impulsive child who had left.

He thought of all of this as he came down the stairs of the foundry to see Felicity sitting in her chair, which was a fairly normal sight. Except tonight, she was supposed to be on a date with Ray Palmer. He and Roy had headed out into the field for a simple surveillance operation. Things were quiet, and the kid was keeping watch for a few more hours. Oliver had decided to return to the foundry, feeling off center for reasons he couldn't explain. He slowed when he saw her, and that impulsive part of himself that still lived on was glad that things apparently hadn't gone well.

Of course, she wasn't covered in blood and soot, or laying unconscious on a metal table, so even though it ended early this date had to have gone better than her last one . . . with him. She deserved a chance at a normal life, and Ray Palmer had managed to succeed in areas where we had failed. There was a part of Oliver that recognized Palmer would be good for her, would be good to her. And he also was far less likely to get her killed than Oliver was. So he shouldn't have felt relief to see her sitting there, but he did.

She was wearing a blue spaghetti strap dress that brought out her eyes. She didn't turn as she heard him, simply continuing to type at the keyboard. There was a time that he would have walked up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder as he asked her what had happened. But these days, it was better to keep as much space between him and Felicity as possible. There was a very real concern that if he touched her again, he wouldn't be able to stop, and that was something he didn't want to risk.

"Hey," he said softly.

She turned and smiled. "Everything go okay?"

"Roy is still out there," he said, which was unnecessary since one of her screens contained a blip with Roy's tracker and security footage in the area. "It was quiet-no new intel or movement from the Triad." China White was expected to be released from prison next week, and they were carefully monitoring the organization, which had been dormant since her arrest, for movement.

Oliver waited, hoping that Felicity would say something without him asking, but she went back to her computers. He tilted his head at her and exhaled. "What happened with Palmer, Felicity?"

Her hands stilled on the keyboard and she rubbed her palms together.

"It was a bad idea," she said after a moment, and then went back to typing.

He waited, but that was all she seemed to want to say. That impulsive part of him wanted to know why it was a bad idea, wanted to know what was going on in that brilliant head of hers. "Because . . . " he prompted.

Felicity sighed in exasperation, spinning her chair to face him. "Because he isn't you, Oliver. He is kind and thoughtful, and gloriously without heavy baggage, but he isn't you, and apparently that's a deal breaker for me."

He took a step towards her, trying to win the war over the part of himself that was pleased at this latest development. Ray Palmer had succeeded where Oliver had failed with Queen Consolidated, and it was refreshing that Felicity hadn't found him so easily replaceable. But she also deserved a life beyond these walls. "Felicity . . . " he started.

"No, Oliver, I get it," she said, standing up. "This doesn't change anything, and that's okay. But I was sitting there, and it should have been perfect, but it wasn't. This," she said gesturing around them, and then between them. "This is enough. This is more than enough for me."

Again, two emotions warred in Oliver-relief, and a sense of foreboding, both brought on by the fact that she wouldn't so easily move on. But if she didn't move on, it would be harder to stay away. It was already harder than it should have been. The impulsive part of him wanted to reach for her, but he knew that when he finally did that again, it couldn't be out of impulse. When (and sometimes he wondered if it truly was a matter of when, not if) he finally reached for her again, he had to be willing to accept the ramifications, because there would be no going back.

"You go," she said softly. "I'll wait for Roy."

He wished her goodnight and did as she asked, because it was better that way.