A/N: I don't own Arrow or its characters.

That night Oliver dreams of his father. The dream is always more impressions than anything else: the panic, the fear, the icy black water.

He wakes when he always does. When the gun goes off.

Oliver jerks awake, sitting up in bed, dripping in cold sweat. He scrubs his face with his hands and flips on the lamp on the nightstand, checking the time on his phone. Three am.

There's no point trying to go back to sleep after one of those dreams. He never can.

He takes a quick shower and when he gets out he feels a little more human. Oliver pulls on a pair of sweatpants and walks through the dark penthouse to the living room.

To his surprise Felicity's curled up on the couch under a blanket watching an old black and white movie.

"Hey," he says in a low voice, alerting her to his presence so he doesn't startle her. "What are you watching?"

"Casablanca."

"Okay if I sit with you?"

"Mm-hm," Felicity says.

He sits on the other end of the couch, sinking into the leather. Felicity's back in her sweatshirt, her blond hair pulled up in a messy bun.

She looks so young and fragile, and tragic in a way that he can't really pinpoint.

"Hey, Felicity," he says. "Have you slept at all since you got here?"

"I slept in the car on the way to dinner," she replies, not taking her eyes away from the screen.

"Slept for more than half an hour," he clarifies.

"I can't sleep," she says softly. "I tried, I just...I couldn't."

"What's bothering you?"

Felicity flinches. "Why do you think something's bothering me?"

"When I can't sleep that's usually why."

"Oh," she says quietly.

"Hey," he says, leaning over a little so she's not so far from him. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

She turns so he can see her face. She looks pale and withdrawn, purple circles under her eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispers.

"What do you mean?"

"Acting like you care about me."

Oliver frowns. "I do care about you."

"You don't even know me."

"Yeah, not really," he agrees. "But you know Sara, and she's my best friend, and she really cares about you, so it's like, what's it called-"

"Transitive property," Felicity supplies.

"Exactly."

"You don't have to do this," she says. "You don't have to be so nice to me just because of Sara."

"Why wouldn't I be nice to you?" he asks, feeling kind of bewildered. Usually he has to beat girls off with a stick, not beg them to open up to him.

But Felicity is clearly not a regular girl.

"Look," he tries to explain. "I don't know how to take care of you and not care about you. Does that make sense?"

She nods hesitantly. "I guess so."

Oliver sighs. "I know that I don't understand exactly what you're going through, but it's pretty obvious you're going through something."

Felicity doesn't say anything but she shifts a bit so that the sides of their arms touch.

"What happened?" she asks, gesturing to the scars on his bare chest.

"That's my something," he tells her.

Felicity's hand comes up in the air and traces the patterns of his scars. Oliver shivers.

"Someone hurt you," she says quietly. "While you were on the island."

He swallows past a lump in his throat. "Yeah, sometimes."

"Why?" she whispers.

"Some people are just bad people."

Felicity nods seriously at that.

"Look," Oliver says. "I get it if you're not ready to talk about it."

She bites her lip, looking down in her lap. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," he says easily. "I understand."

"If I talk about it," she continues, "then it's real. And I'm not ready for that."

Felicity blinks slowly and slides down a little so that her head rests lightly against his shoulder.

"Oliver?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we just watch the movie right now?"

Maybe it's the mystery of it all, maybe it's the way she can go from melancholy to snarky to philosophical in the blink of an eye, but something about Felicity is getting under his skin.

"Sure, Felicity. Whatever you want."

xxx

In the morning Felicity is back to doing her zombie impression. She sits silently at the counter sipping the coffee Oliver made, ignoring him when he tries to get her to eat breakfast.

Oliver sighs, pulling up a stool next to her at the counter. He drags his spoon through his instant oatmeal, going over what he's seen her eat since Sara brought her here Saturday night. A few bites of Raisa's Greek chicken at the mansion last night, and that's it. She must be starving.

"Felicity," he says quietly, because she still has this nervous quality to her, like she might run away if he talks too loud.

She doesn't respond, just stares down at her coffee.

"Felicity, can you look at me please?"

She shifts in her seat, pulling her head up to glance at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Hey," he says. "You need to eat something, okay?"

Felicity shakes her head, her ponytail swinging between her shoulder blades. "I'm not hungry."

"Come one, of course you're hungry. You've barely eaten anything since you got here."

"Don't tell me what I am," she says in a low voice. "I told you, I don't want anything."

"You don't like...have a thing, do you?" he asks hesitantly.

She raises an eyebrow in confusion. "A thing?"

"Like a no-eating thing," he says awkwardly.

He is going to kill Sara. He is so out of his depth here that he's slightly terrified. And he thought Laurel was difficult.

Felicity obviously requires some extensive operational manual Sara forgot to give him.

Felicity gives him a look that might be amusement or disdain, he can't quite tell. "I don't have an eating disorder, Oliver."

"Then why aren't you eating?"

Felicity takes a sip of coffee. "I don't feel like it, okay?"

"No," he says shortly. "Look, Sara asked me to take care of you, and I'm pretty sure that letting you starve to death would violate that promise."

"Fine," she sighs, and snatches a lone banana from the fruit bowl on the counter. "Happy?"

"I will be when I see you eat it."

"You're really micromanage-y, you know."

"And you're stubborn."

His phone rings and Oliver hops off his stool to answer it, watching Felicity out of the corner of his eye. She has the banana peeled but she's just staring at it, like its some foreign object she's never encountered before.

"Get out your wallet!" Thea's voice chimes through the phone.

"Huh?" Oliver says dumbly.

"Shopping, big bro," Thea says brightly. "Remember? I told Felicity we'd go shopping."

"I didn't know you meant this morning," Oliver grumbles, refilling his mug with fresh coffee.

"Do I joke about things like this?"

"I really wish you would."

"Well, too bad. We're going. I'm already in the car. Tell Felicity to be ready in twenty."

Oliver glances back at Felicity, who's eaten a quarter of the banana. "Thea, I don't know..."

"Oh, you want her all to yourself, is that it?"

Oliver chokes on his coffee. "It's not like that, Speedy. We barely know each other."

His sister snorts. "Like that's stopped you before."

"Did you call just to harass me?"

"Shopping, Ollie. Twenty minutes." She hangs up.

Oliver sighs and turns back to Felicity.

"Hey, we have to get dressed. Thea's on her way over."

"Why?" Felicity stutters. "Right now?"

Oliver grins wryly. "Apparently we're going shopping."

Felicity goes pale. "Oliver, I can't go shopping."

"It'll be fine, just smile and nod and try on whatever Thea gives you."

"No, you don't understand." Felicity bites her lip. "I can't go."

Oliver rests him elbows on the counter. "Why not? Because trust me, Thea will find an argument for any excuse you throw at her."

Felicity groans and buries her face in her hands. "I don't have any money."

Oliver stares at her blankly. "You don't have any money?"

"Well, I didn't exactly have time to swing by the bank on my way out of town," Felicity snaps.

"But-what about your credit cards?"

"I have one credit card, one, and Sara says I can't use it!" Felicity wails.

"Why not?"

Felicity shrinks a little. "She says it's too easy to track."

"Why would someone be tracking your credit card?"

When she won't look at him Oliver puts his hand on the back of her stool and turns it so she's facing him.

"Felicity," he says. "Is someone looking for you?"

Felicity stares at his chest. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Maybe," she whispers. "Sara thinks so."

"Is this why you're here? Someone's after you?"

Felicity is huddled on her stool, biting her lip so hard it's turning white.

"Hey," he says gently, brushing her mouth with his finger, getting her to release her lip. "You're going to hurt yourself."

Felicity catches his wrist in her hand. "Please," she says brokenly. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Okay, it's okay," he says, even though it's not, because Felicity looks like she's about to cry. "Let's just get through the next couple of hours, okay?"

"Okay," Felicity nods hesitantly.

He gets his wallet and extracts his black card, and hands it to Felicity, who tries to push it back into his hand.

"What are you doing?" she says, looking panicked.

"For shopping."

"Oh my god, Oliver, I couldn't."

"Felicity, I have more money that I know what to do with, seriously, it's fine. You'll need this to keep up with Thea anyway."

She blushes. "I keep forgetting you're a billionaire."

She climbs off the stool and stands in the middle of the kitchen, as if she's unsure of the direction she's supposed to go.

"Okay?" he asks gently

Felicity nods rapidly. "Yeah. It's just...I'm really glad Sara brought me here, instead of, god, I don't know, Laurel or someone. You're being...you're being really great."

He gives her a charming smile and to his surprise she flushes. "You're welcome, Felicity."

xxx

A/N: Please remember to review ;)