I actually really like this episode, but I've always been a bit fascinated with Felicity's state over 2x14, and dear Oliver's obliviousness/headuphisassedness (it's a word, I promise) never really rang true to me. So this is just what came out. I call it 'episode therapy'.

- Grey

CHAPTER 1 - Post-Lunge

Felicity took a breath and stepped out of the amber elevator. Tall, red heels, classic black and white polka-dot blouse, pencil skirt with a swish at the tail. 'Just be normal,' she mantra'ed to herself, and walked towards her desk at QC, stride steady, ponytail swinging.

She glanced towards Oliver's desk as she passed, noting the darkness of his office and absence of his presence.

A relieved breath whooshed out of her. 'Thank fuck,' she muttered, placing her vivid yellow handbag down on her desk, collapsing into her chair and firing up her computer.

She didn't know how she was going to do this. She didn't know how she was supposed to school her features and pretend everything was normal around him, or whatever constituted 'normal' for them.

She closed her eyes against the flashes of seeing them together in the foundry, naked, enveloped in each other. Oblivious. Oblivious to the sound of the door code, of her panda flats hitting each rung down the stairs as she made her way down to the foundry last night to check on him. Thinking her might need her. Might need someone to talk to.

'Hah,' she scoffed at herself, snapping open her eyes and refocusing on her surrounds at QC. 'You're such an idiot, Felicity Smoak.'

Her insecurities washed over her like a wave, dredging up feelings from her youth, her teenage years. When she had been invisible to those around her; not enough in the eyes of her flamboyant mother; nothing in the eyes of her father, who had left her.

And Oliver, who she thought had seen her yesterday when he'd gently taken hold of both her arms and told her she would never lose him. She had opened up to him, laid her fears bare, and then bravely, broken his heart as she told him of his sister, and his mother's lies.

She dropped into her chair and tiredly hung her head in her hands, her elbows propped on her desk in front her. The emotional roller-coaster of the last few days took hold.

After she had worked out Moira's secret, Felicity decided to confront her at the Queen mansion. To give her the opportunity, at least, to try to make things right with her family.

A surprising exchange had ensued. There had been a strange honesty to their conversation, as if they had both recognised each other at a deeper level. Of course, Moira had immediately turned it to see how she could gain the upper hand, honing in on Felicity's feelings for Oliver, and trying to skewer her with them. It had sent Felicity into a tailspin - not about whether to tell Oliver the truth - she knew she would qhave to, but about how he would react, what it would mean for them.

He didn't seem to have lain blame on her when she had finally told him the truth, but after the rally, he had quickly disappeared. To hood up? Deal with the pain? Tell Thea? - Felicity didn't know.

Her late night visit to the foundry had been an impulse when she couldn't get to sleep. She wanted to check on him, make sure he was alright. She hadn't been expecting him and Sara.

Fiery pain had shot through her as she stood, stock still, on the metal steps. Her belly burned and she had swallowed down against the lump in her throat. Blinking rapidly, she had turned quietly and stepped as carefully as she could, back up the stairs, slinking out the door and praying not to have been seen.

'I am such an idiot', she had thought, as she walked stiffly back to her car in the Verdant lot, walking around a group of drunken partygoers. Of course he was with Sara. Sara was gorgeous and strong and magnificent, and matched him in every way. They were warriors, and friends, and had a history that no one else could even begin to understand. They made sense.

Her and Oliver - they didn't make sense. Hell, except when he was giving her orders or acting to protect her ('because she couldn't protect herself', her mind whispered), he barely paid her any heed lately. She was just Felicity - always there, talking a mile a minute, doing whatever he asked of her.

She opened the door to her red mini, and slid into the driver's seat. Blinking back tears, she took a shaky breath and turned the steering wheel towards the exit. She drove off slowly, heading back to her apartment.