A/N: Takes places after 2x13 and I wrote it then, so it's a little different from what actually happens. As usual pardon me for any grammatical mistakes :)

Loud music pumps through Verdant and drips down below, the cement walls muffling the sound. Sara reminisces about her youth and how often she spent her time in nightclubs getting drunk and making out with anyone. She smiles fondly, wondering if there's a tiny part of her like the Old Sara. Perhaps if Sara spends her time upstairs rather than downstairs in the lair she could loosen up a bit.

But times have changed and she doesn't think it's possible to go back.

As Sara walks deeper inside the foundry she sees Oliver hunched over and watching the computer screen intensely. Ah, so this is where the police chatter is coming from. She notices he's in Felicity's seat; the tech genius never lets anyone near the throne, as she puts it. Sara's lips tug upward just for a moment.

"What are you doing?"

Oliver, still focused on what's in front of him, barely acknowledges her and says, "There's been another death with the same details — blood pouring out of their eyes and the bodies being dumped in alleys." He sighs heavily. "I thought I got rid of the problem."

There will always be a part of Sara proud of him, but she occasionally she feels bad for him. He tries so hard but gets yanked ten steps back. "I'm sure you'll find whoever's behind it. You always do."

"Sometimes too late," he adds moodily. Briefly he glances up at Sara until he resumes his work.

Despite rekindling … whatever they had, Oliver has maintained a normal distance between her. He's not too touchy nor too cool; he acts like he always had after meeting up with Sara in the island. At night once Dig, Roy and Felicity — especially Felicity — leave he breaks down his small barrier and lets her in.

But he's not there emotionally.

She doesn't mind, not entirely. Oddly enough she doesn't need it. All her life Sara had been pushed to the side because Laurel was the prettier and smarter one, so she filled her emptiness with boys and booze. Things are different; Sara has a purpose now. She doesn't need Oliver, but she does enjoy his company. Perhaps a little too much.

If there is an Old Sara stuck somewhere then it's the part of Sara who still has feelings for Oliver. He's disarmingly charming and sweet, but his time spent on the island only refined him. Oliver can smooth talk his way out of anything, he can pick up on body language much faster than she can, and his senses are always on overdrive. He is damaged, much like her, and refuses to let anyone in.

Except Felicity.

Although she, Dig and Felicity know his secret and his problems, it doesn't change the fact when Felicity blurts out he'll pretend he doesn't find it amusing even though it's painfully obvious he does. Whenever Oliver is about to open his mouth Felicity says it aloud for him, and all Oliver does is nod and move on. Sara can see from a mile away when Oliver's shoulders relax when Felicity is nearby.

Best of all, he smiles. He has many different versions, but this … this is his true one. The one where his eyes crinkle in happiness and the apples of his cheeks move up. It's unique.

She's not jealous. She has come to accept the fact that Oliver never truly loved her, nor did she love him. Sara was in love with the idea of just being with him.

It's obvious Oliver is unaware of how much he relies on Felicity, not only at Queen Consolidated but here, inside their lair and there, inside his heart. And it's obvious he doesn't want to drag in this sweet, innocent girl into this beautiful mess, but out of all the people who deserve a happy ending it's him.

"You're sitting in Felicity's Iron Throne," she says, grinning as she does so.

Oliver smiles back knowingly and replies, "Good thing she's not here then."

Sara toys with her fingers before asking, "Has something happened between you and Felicity?"

It's almost laughable how fast his eyes snap up. "No," he responds tightly.

"Not even …?" Sara implores.

"I said no."

Sara sighs and watches him carefully. He's back to paying attention to the computer but his eyes have glazed over. He's sad.

Her heart breaks a little for him, but she pushes anyway. He must know. "Ollie, I'm starting to think you and Felicity are the only blind ones here." She crosses her arms to show she means business.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

Sara scoffs. "Stop lying." He glares at her but she continues on. She doesn't care what he thinks. "You may be sleeping with me but your mind is always on her. Why don't you just —"

The chair is loudly pushed back. Oliver is standing up now, angry, annoyed, and God knows what else. "Stop it Sara. I care about Felicity and that's it. She's not some sort of conquest —"

"I didn't say she was, Ollie," she says gently. He marginally relaxes but she can see he's on edge. "It's just … I see the way she looks at you and I see the way you look at her, and I wonder why you two refuse make yourselves happy and be together?"

You're in love with her. You just don't realize it, you idiot.

Oliver swallows and uncurls his fist. Lowly he says, "Felicity has a boyfriend." She doesn't miss the look of annoyance flickering his face. "But more importantly," he stresses, "I am not — Felicity and I don't have feelings for one another." He tilts his chin upward, an act of arrogance, a desperate attempt to gain the upper hand.

Sara tries very hard not to roll her eyes. "Ollie, you're only sleeping with me because I'm available."

"That's not true."

"I don't mind. It's a 'been there done that' sort of thing." Oliver sighs exasperatedly, probably frustrated at this one-sided conversation. She shoves her hands inside her pockets and softly questions, "Why do you think you're not good enough for her?"

A moment of silence follows through. She doesn't realize the weight of her words, actually. It's painfully awkward, but when Oliver opens his mouth she's not prepared for what he says.

"Because I'm not."

Hurt is etched across all over his face. He clenches his jaw and shamefacedly looks down on the floor, taking a deep breath as well. A lump forms in her throat, and without thinking she steps forward, grabbing his hand and clasping it around hers.

She zeroes in on his eyes, pleading to him. "Don't you dare say that, Ollie. You are a good man with a good heart." He tries to yank his hand away from hers but she holds on fast, desperate to make him understand. He's refusing to look at her. "What you do here is nothing short of amazing. You sacrifice your life all the time for those you love, for your city."

"Sara," he says gravely, "let go of my hand."

"No," she grounds out. Instead her right hand goes up to his face, gently caressing his cheek and focusing his attention on her. His blue eyes are dark. Sara smiles fondly and says, "You of all people deserve someone as good as Felicity. If you think staying away from her is going to protect her, it won't. She's already in the crossfire.

"But it'll make things easier for her — and you — if you're just there in all the ways she needs you to be."

He closes his eyes for a moment. Once he opens them again his gaze has softened, but there are lingering tears in his eyes. "I can't do that to her," he whispers. "I can't."

And with that Oliver detangles himself from Sara, slowly walking away, defeated. His shoulders are hunched and his head is hanging low. She wants to hold him and reassure Oliver he is a good person deserving of a normal, decent life. God he needs it, and Felicity is the one to give it to him.

Before he leaves through the back exit, Sara summons up her courage and yells, "Ollie?" Reluctantly he turns around, his fingers scratching his chin — a sign of nervousness.

It takes her a moment to begin but she says, "The way you look a Felicity … You never looked at me like that. Or Laurel."

He turns back around without saying anything, and as the door shuts softly behind him Sara wonders if he will ever be happy. If he'll even allow himself to be happy.

And that thought saddens her.