So... this is a pretty long chapter because I really could not split this up once I'd written it. There simply were no good splitting points. So the whole adult conversation talking thing between Oliver and Felicity as well as the Moira explanation etc - all in here.

As always, I've uploaded with no double-checking or beta reading. Sorry in advance for any mistakes :)

It's kind of amazing the difference a small moment can make; a different introduction; a split second, a reaction, and a steady-spiralling set of changes.

To the Moira of her previous world, Felicity had been interloper; a hanger-on. Someone out for her son's fortune, the title of being Queen; another girl who slept with him. Another girl who believed herself in love with whatever she imagined she saw in the man. A girl who sought to blackmail her. A girl who had dangerous knowledge, information which could jeopardise her relationship with her son.

A threat.

Someone who needed to be dissuaded, taken care of.

But not this time around.

This time, in this world, Moira found out about Felicity from Oliver – from when he called his mother, still at the charity event and in front of her and the Police, asking Moira to make sure the Queen family lawyers were ready and willing to go toe to toe with the Police and Press on behalf of Felicity. Asking her to involve their PR department and putting the weight of the Queen family behind her. Just facing the displeasure of the Queen family was often more than enough of a threat to ensure only well-researched and fact-based articles made it into print (online or actual print).

And when Moira had investigated and turned up at her door the next day, Felicity had still been in IT, a record of rejecting promotions and being over-qualified and working hours which showed nothing but dedication. Not an Executive assistant with a reputation of sleeping her way to the top. That would've been enough – maybe – for the offer of a promotion.

But Felicity had a different level of clout she'd never expected her past self to have – the press was watching and listening. It was in Moira's best interest to make sure she had nothing but the best to say about the Queen family.

Additionally, Felicity had already demonstrated a dedication to the Queen family personally, not just professionally, and at the risk of her own life. Yeah, with her intellect, her skills and holding her son's esteem as well as the attention of the press? Showing she was willing to die just to protect their reputation?

Moira was doing her very best to make sure she included and interweaved Felicity in every aspect of the Queen family's life, hoping to tie her inextricably to them, to make sure she created emotional ties outside of Oliver's to Thea, Moira and Walter, to make sure she didn't go out seeking to destroy them (because she had a lot more leverage than past-her had realised).

Undoubtedly it was also planning for when Moira expected Oliver might drop her or cheat on her – Felicity honestly wasn't sure if Oliver's mother didn't think she was in a secret relationship with her son and tacitly consenting to him stepping out on her with McKenna and her support was a reflection of her own twisted relationship with her husband where they'd both had relations (and children) on the side and the way Felicity also appeared to ignore Oliver's infidelities.

Just thinking about it made her mind spin on and on like a hamster wheel with all the possible permutations and interpretations about what Moira could possibly be thinking. Honestly, she wasn't sure which one was correct, and she also wasn't entirely sure, she wanted to know. The point was, Moira was doing her best to treat Felicity like she was part of the family.

Thank Spectre the memories had reintegrated because there was no way Felicity could've predicted half of these things without it. Her relationship with Oliver and Dig was easier to understand. They were a lot closer – he was a lot more protective, as was Dig; hovering, even. They had, indeed, wrung a promise from her to be less reckless.

Well, considering this Felicity had died challenging and rebuffing Helena, it had been a good attempt on their part, but one doomed for failure.

It only made her earlier comment about Oliver's over-protectiveness all the funnier, because, unless your name was Thea, that was not at all the way he was or had been with his girlfriends previously. In the future, her Oliver's hovering and protectiveness over her (mostly her), and even sometimes Laurel and Sara had been well-established.

But she'd forgotten that this Oliver was still fresh(ish) from the island. Back when he'd been Ollie and dating, people had, apparently, flirted with his girlfriends – even Laurel – right in front of him, and he hadn't flinched, hadn't been jealous, because he hadn't cared – not the way they had. Hadn't seen it as exclusive, had slept with other people and hadn't cared if they did the same, her husband had told her once with a grimace. Of course, even the playboy he had been back then, Ollie would've physically protected any girl from any unwanted advances or assault – but that was any girl, attachment or not.

Him hovering, constantly touching, reaching for her, looking at her? Yeah, Oliver, the one his family knew – he didn't do that.

And before Moira could tell Felicity precisely that, Oliver had pulled her away.

Adorable.

As if she didn't already know just how much he cared for her, as if she couldn't tell just from the way he looked at her. Question was, how much did he care for McKenna? Because the woman had given him something he desperately needed at that time – someone he needn't make apologies (and lies) to. And he'd known her for years, building on a relationship from before the Gambit sank – Felicity honestly couldn't tell if that was a positive or not, at this stage. If it meant he might stick with the Detective. If he might never allow himself to think of Felicity, allow himself to consider the way he felt about her.

The bigger issue with the reintegration, however, is far more unexpected. Felicity had honestly put it down to a higher pain tolerance, her own distraction and the anaesthetic.

But what she'd felt yesterday? Nothing compared to today. The reintegration wasn't just her mind – it was her body, too. A body she hadn't realised didn't quite feel like her own until now. The bruises she'd thought painful yesterday were now strong enough to impact her breathing, every movement seeming to pull on a part of her body which was, at best, aching. But the worst was her neck, still - the skin around her neck was tight and really, really painful. She felt like she could count each of the stitches from the pain alone. There was nothing she could do. Swallowing was difficult. Breathing hurt. Her body was not sensitive like it was when she was too close to an explosion, no this pain came from underneath her skin and was not so easily protected or covered.

There was nothing she could do, but accept it and move on through the pain because there simply was no other choice.

When Felicity finally forced herself to finish processing and face her not-husband, opening her eyes, the sunlight around the edges of the curtain had given away to darkness and a night sky.

Oliver was where he'd been when she fell asleep, looking for all the world as if he hadn't so much as twitched a muscle. His seat was still facing her, both of his hands wrapped tightly around her right one, lifted enough so he could bow over it. With his head lowered, the shadows concealed his face enough she had no hope of reading his expression, even if she were wearing her glasses. Although the latter, at least, is an easy enough fix.

"I'm glad to see you're awake," he says quietly, lifting his head slowly, and Felicity winces at the pain and grief written across it now that she can see him clearly.

"Thanks for watching over me," she offers, slowly righting herself, not letting him out of her eyes or allowing her hand to leave his, the old habit of breathing through the pain coming back to her easily. Ironic since the very act of breathing agitates the pain, but there's nothing for it now.

"What's going on?"

He shakes his head.

"Nothing," he says as if she couldn't tell when he lies to her.

"Don't say it's nothing," she disputes with an eyeroll but he doesn't react. He's still intent on not sharing, she acknowledges with an internal sigh.

"You have your broody-face on. Why do you have your broody face on? Did I drool really badly?" She pats the pillow as if to check, but her eyes never leave Oliver's face, hoping to elicit at least the beginnings of a smile from him.

"Or talk in my sleep? I swear, I can't be held responsible for what I dream about. Neurons misfiring and all that. It's not my fault if I mentioned a certain someone's awesome abs. That could have been about anyone. Really."

Finally, a slight upwards tilt to his lips, but it fades quickly and he shakes his head.

"Broody face?" he tries to distract but Felicity is the master of distraction and it's not quite that easy to do to her. Having a toddler teaches you the most remarkable talents you never knew you needed.

"The everything's-my-fault, the world's ending and everyone who has ever died did so because of me. Your guilty face. Your broody face," she summarises and that, at least gets a tired smile and a half-breathed out chuckle.

"Do you have a name for all of my expressions?"

"I think I'll plead the fifth on that one," gets her another smile but it falls quickly.

"Talk to me," she requests quietly when he still refuses to engage or respond.

"It's not a good time," Oliver objects finally.

"Will there ever be a better time?" she asks rhetorically and can see him hesitate – so she pushes.

"I'm your captive audience. Fairly literally actually, because I'm not sure I can escape this bed without help. I think it might swallow me whole if I'm not careful."

"You need to get better first. Then we can talk," he argues but she's not so easily dissuaded.

"Oliver," Felicity breathes out with a heavy sigh. "You know me. All that's going to do is make sure my mind's running a mile a minute and I get progressively more stressed with each terrible scenario of what you could be wanting to talk about."

He looks contemplative, at least, acknowledging he does know her that well at least.

"Let's start off with one of the worst things then – are you kicking me off Team Arrow?"

"What?" He is wide-eyed, genuinely taken aback at the sheer suggestion. Thank God. "No- why would you even think that?"

"Broody face," she reiterates, "about something we can't talk about until I'm better. How could it be anything but terrible news?"

"And since when is it 'Team Arrow'?" He queries, a thread of amusement in his voice.

He's looking a bit more relaxed now; good. He's opening up. He's giving up on holding back.

"No way am I calling it Team Hood," she rebuts instantly and he smiles slightly.

"Alright," he finally openly concedes.

"Are you sure you want to talk about this right now?" Oliver asks again and Felicity barely manages to stop herself from sighing loudly or rolling her eyes; she just gives him a hard stare which is enough to make Oliver roll his own eyes.

"I had to check, Felicity."

"Alright, you did your check, yes I'm sure, now – tell me. What has you all Broody McBrooderson?"

The smile falls right off his face and the pained look in his eyes is back.

"We never talked about it back after we faced the Dodger. Mainly because you'd made us a promise to be more careful in future and Dig and I thought that'd be enough. But… Felicity, think about what you said, about why you did what you did. It doesn't add up."

"What?" Felicity queries, brows furrowed. "Of course it adds up. I stopped him by jumping on his back because we both knew that guy would never risk himself."

"Except there's a flaw in your reasoning," her not-husband tells her, voice heavy and eyes serious.

Felicity snorts.

"Excuse me – but I'm a bonafide, certified genius, Oliver. If there were a flaw in my reasoning, I think I would have found it by now."

"Okay then," Oliver gives in with a sigh. "Tell me… when you first saw someone who stole the jewels, why did you confront him? Why didn't you call me and Dig in?"

Felicity smiles. "That's easy – because there was no bomb collar around his neck. So, I figured this guy had to be another unrelated thief stealing it."

The man sitting beside her bed doesn't say anything, just staring at her, waiting for her to catch on.

It takes a moment before the pieces connect, then her eyes widen.

"Frack," she swears quietly.

"I never thought of that," she breathes out slowly, still surprised at her own realisation, at what Dig and Oliver had likely both figured out the moment it had happened.

"I know," he admits gently, stroking across her hand, eyes steadfast on her own.

"But that would mean-"

"Yeah."

"Frack!"

"You're okay," Oliver reassures her.

"By chance," she tells him, "l was wrong – about all of it. That was not a calculated decision – that was luck. I don't work on luck, Oliver," Felicity's voice is in a higher pitch due to her panic, but she cannot just let this one slide. "I calculate. I find information I can base my decisions on and if I don't have enough, I find more ways to get it. I – This- Oliver-" her voice falters as she tries to explain but struggles to.

"I know," he tells her again, reaching out to the shoulder opposite the stitch on her neck, to gently squeeze it supportively – but unless he intends to kiss her until she struggles to put together a coherent thought, that's not going to be enough, Felicity thinks to herself, her mind still spiralling.

"I confronted him," she explains slowly, needing to say her realisation out loud, "because the Dodger always stayed out of range. He remained out of the blast and danger zone. And with no bomb collar on his neck, the man should have been just a random thief. Only it wasn't – and that means all the decisions I made later were informed by that erroneous assumption at the start. Which means if he didn't stay out danger, if he wasn't as concerned with his own safety as I had presumed – there was a chance he could've blown himself up. Some bombers are known for wanting to go out in a suicide by cop. Or their own bomb. Oh god, Oliver, I could've died."

"I know," he tells her softly. "It's why we made you promise. We didn't want you to doubt your judgements, it's why we didn't tell you earlier – you made the right call based on the information you had. You just need to learn to adjust your assessments when you get new data. And take less risks. Please."

Oliver sighs, extracting one of his hands from hers so he can rub across his eyes.

"I'm just… concerned. You showed more emotion about beating someone I trained than about putting yourself in danger - yet again. I was worried when you told us you confronted Helena instead of going along with her; Instead of giving her what she wanted and letting me or even the Police deal with her. Look, Felicity, I'm just – I'm trying to understand: Why didn't you?"

Felicity grimaces as she finally understands the pain across his face, the grief in his eyes… because the real question he's asking her, the one he thinks he knows the answer to, is whether she's suicidal.

"It's not that," she promises him quickly, because she never wants him to think that. She tries not to remember how she'd willingly walked to her death the moment she'd been sure Mia and William could protect themselves and her promise had been fulfilled. Because, although she's never acknowledged it out loud, she knows exactly what that was.

"I just can't have those deaths on my head – not of the people trying to protect him who've done no wrong." That had been past-Felicity's justification to Helena and it kind-of held true. "And I didn't know how long it'd be before you check your phone, so I-"

Felicity winces, knowing Oliver's already caught onto her blunder with the way his head has snapped up, eyeing her suspiciously.

"What do you mean?"

She sighs.

"Look, I just- I called you. When I found the report of the robbery and the crossbow stolen. I was leaving a voicemail when I turned around and she was suddenly there." She sighs heavily when Oliver's brows furrow.

"I don't have any voicemail," he tells her with certainty, nevertheless stretching out his hand to reach for his phone to double-check, because he trusts her.

"I deleted it," Felicity confesses quietly and Oliver stares at her, jaw set, body stiff, hand paused mid-reach as he forcefully breathes out, modulating his voice and tone so it doesn't come out as the angry yell she can tell he really wants to use. Because he's like that; careful with her. Cautious. Protective. Especially when she's injured. And when he's angry.

"Why?" he bites out between pressed teeth but she can tell how much she hurt him with her decision. What was intended to protect him made him think she didn't trust him, instead.

"I'm sorry, I just- you didn't need to worry. I'd managed to take care of everything by that time. Security was there and the cavalry with Captain Lance on their way. I didn't want you to show up and create any questions or raise any suspicion. And I checked your location – you rarely manage to get time away for yourself, I didn't want to interrupt what little downtime you managed to get for yourself. But I promise, I didn't need a rescue; if I had, I wouldn't have touched that voicemail. I promise, Oliver. I just wanted to protect you. The same way you always protect me."

He breathes out, a quiet hiss, eyeing her carefully, cautiously, as he tries to read her. But then, finally, Oliver gives her a sharp nod and she feels the tension in her shoulder blades release at the silent concession.

"Don't do that again," he tells her – and it's not a request this time, but rather an ultimatum. The implications are more than clear. If she breaks his faith in her again, there's no coming back from that. Or well, there would be, there always was with them – but not without a lot of time and effort.

"I promise," she tells him and she means it – because she never wants to be the one responsible for putting that look on his face. Never wants to hurt him like that.

"And I'm so, so sorry, Oliver. I didn't think about what it would look like for you."

"I'm sorry, too," he tells her and she blinks in surprise, sitting more upright, ignoring the pain shooting through her at the movement, because… what? What could Oliver possibly have done to-

"What?"

"You relied on me," he tells her and she shrugs, because, well, she does.

"Only as much as you rely on me," she retorts easily, garnering a soft smile from him at her words, before he goes grim-faced again.

"And I let you down," he continues as if she hadn't spoken.

"What?" She asks again – because how did he come to that conclusion?

"I did," he tells her firmly. "You called me. You're on the team, my team, and I swore to Dig that we could protect you and I failed you. You've never called me for anything trivial. I should not have silenced my phone. I shouldn't have been- I was-" He hesitates and Felicity rolls her eyes.

"Oliver, I figured out you were having sex with McKenna. You keep thinking I'm so innocent, but I'm not that innocent."

There's no need to let him know how jealous she is, how much she hates that her husband was lying in another woman's arms last night, that he was kissing her instead of Felicity. It wasn't fair – Oliver wasn't even her husband, had made no promises of fidelity to her, or even acknowledged any feelings beyond friendship… but still.

She couldn't silence the way she felt about it – about him. Couldn't separate them because at their core, the two men were the same. The same wonderful, amazing person she couldn't help but fall in love with. Yeah, this Oliver was different, both more broken, and more closed-up and lonely. Unwilling to open himself up. Unwilling to endanger her or anyone else.

"And you're entitled to down-time, Oliver," she rebukes gently.

"Not when you're in danger because you chose to be on my team and I'm your first port of call for safety. Not when you rely on me to respond."

"We'll just find a work around – I'll create a new phone number to redirect to your phone and any calls to that number bypass your phone settings. That way, even if you do mute your phone, it'll override it and ring." Felicity shrugs.

There's plenty of workarounds, to be honest, and she wondered if this had bothered Oliver as much the first time around. He'd never mentioned it and with his relationship with McKenna coming to an abrupt end, it had not come up again until later when he needed work and Arrow-phone numbers separate from each other so he knew how to answer.

"You can do that?" Oliver asks, surprised.

"Some day," she tells him, "you will stop being amazed at the simplest things I can do."

"Never," he assures her easily, a mischievous grin curving his lips up enough his dimples appear. Felicity can feel her breath catch and his smile widens, noticing her reaction. She flushes when he winks playfully at her.

"Behave," she scolds him, but her grin is wide enough Oliver can tell her heart's not behind it.

Then she forces herself to be serious, to not allow herself to be distracted – because this needs to be said, not allowed to fester.

"Just know, I'm not angry, okay?" Felicity requests earnestly. "I'm not upset. I don't feel let-down. Or disappointed." It's easy enough to read the surprise on his face, the way his eyes slowly widen as she continues her reassurances, the way his breath falters and the way his hand around hers tightens.

"You haven't broken my trust or faith in you, Oliver, I promise you. So, you don't have to apologise or be sorry. But… just in case you need to hear it – I forgive you. And I still believe in you."

There's a shimmer in his eyes that tells her she's managed to touch him with her words – that he believes what she told him, rather than dismissing them as he sometimes does. Instead, he swallows hard and lets her hand go. With an easy move – for Oliver, who is uninjured, not her – he moves up onto the bed and covers, wrapping both his arms around her, cradling her against his chest and pressing a chaste kiss to her head along with a barely audible, "thank you."

Felicity relaxes.

Yes, the new position hurts her bruise as she stretches sideways. Yes, it pulls on the stitching in her neck where she's got it tilted to lean against him. Yes, it hurts and aches and she wants nothing more than to swallow more pain killers.

Except there's nothing better to alleviate pain than the dopamine rush she gets from being held to her husband's chest, the careful way he's holding her, the kiss he's pressing to her head, all the ways he makes an effort to show her just how much he loves her.

…

Okay, so maybe some painkillers and the dopamine rush would be ideal. But for now? She has no intention of saying anything which might cause him to move away from her, or cause him to become more aware of their positions; she's just going to enjoy this for as long as he lets her.

Felicity closes her eyes, deliberately leaning closer to him.

This? This is perfection. It's everything she'd been needing since the moment Helena was taken away by Detective Lance. Everything she hadn't wanted to think about missing because the odds of her getting this from Oliver this early on in their relationship she'd figured were astronomical.

Allowing herself to snuggle closer to Oliver, relishing in the warmth he's exuding, the scent and feel of him surrounding her; yeah, perfection is a pretty accurate description for this moment.

Now, if only they could stay like this forever.

Author's Notes:

Can I just say? Endlessly amused when people don't pick up on things I think they will, like point out obvious plot holes. Like genius Felicity miscalculating - badly - by not including the new information she just garnered on the Dodger given he is here in person. I really thought a lot of my readers would go ha-ha, Felicity would never do that, here's why. Glad it managed to fall under everyone's radar until the reveal!
There were also a few questions on Moira, so hopefully the 1k at the beginning with Felicity's reflections addresses and explains that a bit.
I was always a bit put-off that Oliver made himself Felicity's emergency contact and go-to response and then silenced his phone. That's not okay. There needs to be a fail-safe. Or communication. or call forwarding or a hundred other things.
Anyway, hope this addressed and closed a few of the plot holes and made sense of things.
I promise we'll be more light-hearted next chapter.

Tell me what you think, please! Did you like it? Did it make more sense? Explain things? I just wanted the honesty-talking thing to keep going between the two so things are not left to fester, or just stay unaddressed but I hope the way I did it make sense.
If you have any wishes or anything you want to see in the nxt chapter, let me know. Please review and comment :) It's always super-appreciated :)