This is a doozy of one shot. It started as a prompt from last week's Manic Monday drabbles and then sort of took on a life of its own. Warning…there is fluff and a SOLID amount of angst. Some violence. Tiny amounts of smut.

Original Prompt: Olicity AU Prompt: Something about Bratva!Oliver being cute with Felicity! (But also totally denying that he's cute cause hey he's a Russian mobster and he doesn't do cute. I don't even know anymore, I just love Bratva!Oliver :p )

I know this is probably not what the anon was expecting. Truth be told me either.

Hopefully you readers enjoy :) thanks to klarolineepiclove for her bit of beta work!

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Oliver didn't move a single muscle, as the bald man stared him down. He wasn't a boy, though Alexi liked to call him that. He hadn't been a boy in a very long time. He'd paid his allegiance and now it was time that he collected his dues.

"You ask a lot of favors," Alexi challenged, his Russian accent curling thickly around his veiled threat. "Yet I do not see you pay any favors back."

Oliver's face was stone, he wasn't scared of the man in front of him. Alexi could puff his chest out all he liked, Oliver knew who the one with the power was in their situation. "I know how this brotherhood works."

"Bratva Captain or no...one day you may regret taking such advantage."

Oliver's jaw ticked, the muscles in the back of his neck flexing with effort to keep himself still. Below his boot was the face of one of Alexi's thugs, who had made the mistake of thinking he could physically attack him and win. For that mistake, Oliver had laid him out and now had a gun pointed at his head.

Alexi had no idea of the regrets that were already piled onto Oliver's shoulders. There wasn't much damage left to do and there wasn't much Alexi or the rest of the Bratva could threaten. It was difficult to intimidate a man who didn't have anything or anyone to lose.

One thing and one thing only drove Oliver Queen and that was revenge. That made him dangerous.

"Just find me the information I need to know," he growled, removing his hold on the lacky. He would let the man live, to serve as a warning to anyone else who wanted to try Oliver's patience.

Oliver made his way out of the dank, dusty warehouse in The Glades and into the morning light. The blackness of night had covered him when he'd stepped inside for the meeting, but now the day had bloomed. The sun was awake and the people of Starling City would be going about their days, unaware of the vast criminal network that operated within the belly of the city.

Oliver Queen was a part of that network, near the top of the food chain. He'd been a part of it long before he'd even realized.

Glancing down at the watch on his wrist, he noted the time, and looked up across the parking lot.

Diggle was by the car, keeping an eye out, another one of Alexi's men standing nearby watching Diggle. His friend nodded at him in greeting and opened the passenger door of the car. He waited until Alexi's man had skulked away, sneer on his face, before he spoke.

"How'd it go?"

"He said he can trace the bullets," Oliver replied sliding into the passenger seat. "The favors are piling up, though."

"Something tells me you don't care about that," Diggle commented as he climbed in on the driver's side, shutting the door, and turning the ignition.

"I don't," was Oliver's clipped answer. It had been a long night. He was tired and restless. The sunlight stung his eyes, purple shadows hanging under them, enhancing the dim blue. He rubbed the heel of his hands against his eyes, running them up and back along his short, scruffy hair. It wasn't unusual for him to run on short amounts of sleep, staying awake that day would be difficult. But then, he remember the promise the day held, reaching behind himself to the back seat where he had a leather attache case.

He flipped it open and pulled out a black laptop, riddled with bullet holes.

"Rough night," said Diggle, glancing over at the laptop and a knowing eyebrow raised.

"Decided to use your computer as a shield again?"

A brief smile curled at the edge of Oliver's mouth, gone the instant it appeared. "I guess I'll just have to get it fixed."

Diggle chuckled, turning the black town car onto the main highway that led into downtown Starling City. "I guess you have an excuse to visit that new computer shop we've heard so much about."

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Oliver could have gone to his own personal IT department at Queen Consolidated to get his laptop fixed, he did own the company after all. Instead he ventured to another part of town to a small computer repair shop that had been recommended to him by a friend.

Though the storefront window he spied a not unattractive blonde, with glasses and a smooth ponytail engrossed in a tablet. Every so often her polished index finger would slide over the screen, her eyes darting back and forth, taking in whatever she was reading.

The young woman was completely oblivious to the teenage boy pasted to the window, watching her. Oliver strolled up, an air of confidence behind him that came with being the prized son of Starling City. He paused, just before reaching the door, and glanced over at the boy. The lad started, turning a bright shade of red, and moving away from the window.

Oliver smirked, watching the kid retreat and then continued inside.

She hadn't noticed Oliver enter and come to a stop right in front of her countertop desk. Her eyes remained on the tablet screen and he watched her, tilting his head to one side curiously. The idea that she was so enamoured with whatever she was caught up in amused him.

"Hi," he greeted, breaking her concentration. She flinched in surprise, moving the tablet away from her face.

"Geez," she breathed, a hand flying to her chest. "I didn't hear you come in." She looked up at him then, her eyes widening just a fraction behind her frames. "You," she pointed at him. "I know you."

His breath caught, a nervous feeling swelling in his chest, but he took control quickly, burying the trepidation. "You do?"

"Of course," she said, fuschia lips turning up into a bright smile. "You're Oliver Queen. Everyone knows who you are. Unless they've been living under a rock." He gave her a modest grin, the feeling that had shaken his stomach before now settling. "What can I do for you Mr. Queen?"

"Please, call me Oliver," he urged, his voice friendly. "Mr. Queen was my father."

"Yeah, but he's dead," she jumped catching the slip of her tongue and quickly tried to back peddled. "I mean he was murdered. I mean you know all that and don't need me-a random stranger-reminding you about your family tragedies. Or calling your family tragic. I'm going to stop talking in three...two...one."

The blonde ducked her head, shaking off her nervous ramble. Clicking her painted nails across the desk, she harnessed her rambling and looked up at him again. "Let me start over, I'm Felicity Smoak. What can I do for you, Mist-Oliver?"

Oliver let her ramble slide. He was accustomed to people being nervous around him, though they never realized their nerves were for all the wrong reasons. The citizens of Starling had treated him differently, ever since his father's gruesome murder and the kidnapping of his mother and sister. It was an event that had rocked the city of Starling and changed the course of Oliver's life.

For a moment, dark memories overtook him, and he was somewhere else entirely. A flash of light, the yelling of his name, a sharp sting in his arms in chest. Then he blinked, and saw Felicity looking up at him from her stool seat expectantly, waiting for his answer.

He brought out his messenger bag and presented the bullet ridden laptop to her, setting it gingerly on her counter.

"Oh wow," Felicity murmured, looking over the destroyed machine.

"I was at a coffee shop and spilled a latte on it," he lied. In the back of his mind was Diggle, telling him he needed to work on his excuses.

Felicity arched an eyebrow at him. "Oh really?" she countered, running the tips of her fingers around the jagged holes on the computer's surface. "Because these look like bullet holes."

"My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood."

Felicity pressed her lips together, looking up at him. She wasn't buying his bullshit story for a second, Oliver knew that. This woman was much too smart for that. They stared at each other, locked in a challenge, Oliver still grinning down at her as innocently as he could manage. It was a power play, just like he had experienced that morning with Alexi, but without the threat of violence. He was daring Felicity to question him.

"If you can recover anything from it," he said. "I'd be very grateful."

"Okay," she replied, deciding to accept the lie. "I'm not one to back down from a challenge." Oliver's mouth quirked at her admission. "Latte spill recovery might take some time. If you want to leave your number-"

"That's fine, I saw a coffee shop just around the corner. Would you like anything?"

Felicity stammered caught off guard by his question. "Er-when I say some time, I'm talking a few hours, at least. That's if I can find anything. I'm sure you're a busy man."

"I've got time to wait," Oliver assured her. "I'll grab us some coffees and be right back."

Before Felicity could protest again, Oliver was out the door and heading down the street. Diggle was beside him a moment later.

"Plans for the day?"

Oliver smiled at his friend, feeling better than he had an hour before, back in the Glades. "I'm getting my computer fixed. We're having coffee."

"I thought so," Diggle let out a heavy sigh. There was censure in his tone, but Oliver chose to ignore it. "The perimeter is secure. Alexi and his thugs are down for the day. You're good to go."

"Thanks, Digg."

Oliver clapped him on the shoulder and Diggle gave him a nod of his head as he turned to leave.

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Oliver returned twenty minutes later with a black coffee and a latte for Felicity. She had made a comment about him guessing at her coffee preferences and he quickly covered, saying that she seemed like a latte sort of girl.

He sat quietly and watched her work, listening to the music she had put on while he had been on the coffee run. Again she was engrossed in her work and unaware of her surroundings, Oliver studied her from the top of his eyes, pretending to text on his phone. After about thirty minutes, she looked up at him, and then pushed the computer away.

"You're seriously just going to sit here and watch me work?"

"Yep." He flashed her a toothy smile.

"Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but that's kind of creepy." Her candor made him laugh again. "Seriously, I had a stalker once in college. A lacrosse player. He was harmless but still annoying."

"Are you saying I'm annoying you?"

"No, but, I don't know why Oliver Queen wants to sit here and watch a tech geek fix his computer," she sighed, pulling her work back and dipping her head down to focus again. "Surely you have something better to do."

Oliver took a sip of his coffee. "The idle rich are hard to entertain."

Felicity let out a brisk laugh at that, her fingers moving pulling out a piece of hardware from his computer. "Looks, like the bullets, I mean latte-"she gave him a knowing look and he smiled- "missed your motherboard. Which means your computer's memory should be intact. All we have to do is install it and your hard drive into another laptop and you're good to go."

"Excellent," Oliver said. "Any chance we can do that today?"

"I'm not Apple," Felicity replied. "The computers I have in here aren't going to be anything you're interested in. All of these machines I've built from spare parts. I suggest you purchase a new computer, and then I'd be happy to customize and rebuild it for you."

"I'm not good with computers," Oliver remarked. He ran a hand along the scruff at the back of his neck. "Would you be able to come to the store with me and help me pick one out? I'd really like to get all of this sorted out today."

The corners of Felicity's mouth turned down. She pushed at the edge of her glasses. "As happy as I would be to be Oliver Queen's personal computer geek, I have other work to do."

Oliver knew she was bluffing. If she had so much work, she wouldn't have been so engrossed in her tablet when he walked into her store. He decided to call her out. "How about this," Oliver leaned in. "I'll pay you your hourly rate for the rest of the day, to be my personal computer genius."

"Now I kind of just sound like a hooker." It was said half jokingly, but Oliver could tell she was offended.

He was going about everything the wrong way. Felicity, though obviously starstruck by him, wasn't a woman who Oliver could charm into giving into his requests. He already exhausted that tactic earlier. But he needed to spend more time with her and gain her trust. He wasn't willing to quit just yet.

"I'm sorry," Oliver tried again. "I only meant that I realize your time is valuable. I came here because I was told you were the best and, more importantly, trustworthy. I'm sure you can imagine a man in my position can't bring computer issues to just anyone."

Felicity stood and disappeared through the door behind the counter. Oliver cursed under his breath, weighing his options. A moment later she reappeared, shouldering a purse. She smiled when she realized she had him thinking the worst. It was her plan all along. Oliver laughed to himself.

"You're forgiven," she said. "And also in luck, because I don't have anything else to do today, actually. Let's go get you a computer."

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Felicity stood in the middle of the brightly lit retail store, going back and forth talking specs with the blue shirted salesman. The kid was gaping at her, not unlike the teenager in the window that morning. It was obvious the guy hadn't expected Felicity to be able to talk technology circles around him. From the moment they walked in, he had taken a cocky and condescending attitude, until Felicity chimed in and shut him up.

Her eyes met Oliver's over the salesman's head as she went on and on, and he could tell she was enjoying putting the little weasel in his place.

The moment was interrupted by Oliver's cell phone, ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out to see Diggle's name flashing on screen. Diggle wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important. Oliver held up a finger to Felicity and indicated he was stepping out to take a call. She nodded slightly at him, without breaking her conversation. The salesman looked completely freaked out, shoulders stooped and moppy hair dropping in front of his eyes in defeat. Oliver almost felt sorry for him.

Once he was out on the sidewalk, he answered the phone. "What's going on Digg?"

"They found her," Digg reported. Oliver knew exactly the "her" his friend was talking about.

"They found her? I thought we were just following a lead."

"Turns out we both thought wrong," Diggle replied. "They're bringing her down to the factory right now."

Oliver gritted his teeth. He wasn't expecting this new circumstance. It changed everything. He glanced over at Felicity, who looked like she was wrapping up her battle of wits with the computer salesman. Oliver had a choice to make and he had to make it quickly.

"Fine," he answered begrudgingly. "I'll be there in fifteen."

Hanging up, he stepped back inside. Felicity was waiting for him by the help desk, elbow propped against the white surface and a victorious smile spread from cheek to cheek.

"Hey," she said straightening up. Her eyes observed the marked V between his brows. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just a business thing I have to go take care of," Oliver replied, reaching out to touch her elbow. He stilled for a moment, realizing the contact, and quickly pulled his hand away. "Did you pick out a computer?"

"Yep, a nice, big laptop, with a free memory upgrade since he was being such an arrogant jerk earlier." Felicity beamed with pride.

"Great." His voice lacked the natural brightness he had been able to affect earlier. Already his mind was on what was awaiting him. "Look, I need to go take care of this…"

"Business thing?"

"Right...and I was thinking I could stop by in an hour or two and pick up the laptop?"

"Sure, no problem." The salesboy came back to them, interrupting to tell them the cost of the new computer.

Oliver handed over a credit card and made the purchase, then passed it to Felicity to cover her cab fare-in spite of her protests-and rushed out the door, making his way down to the old Queen Consolidated factory in the Glades.

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The bright morning sun had hidden behind the clouds, as if knew what was about to happen. A bit of darkness to cover the dark deeds that were about to be done. Oliver paused at the side door of the steel mill, it smelled of rust and rot. He shut his eyes, letting the man who he had been that morning with Felicity drop away, and another part of him take over. He became a different man, a version of Oliver Queen who had met the dawn, after dealing with Alexi. The Oliver Queen whose veins were ice and heart beat for nothing, who felt no warmth or lightness or remorse.

His eyes opened again, shadows surrounding them, and he pulled open the door.

Two of Bratva thugs stood in front of a metal chair. In the chair, was a woman, her hands bound at the wrists behind her back. Her head was bent forward, a long curtain of brunette hair hanging in front of her face, light from the rafters striking it and bringing out flecks of amber. As Oliver's footsteps grew near, the thugs backed away, and she lifted her head, sleepy eyes meeting his without fear or surprise.

At the corner of her mouth was a streak of blood.

"Zdravstvuyte, Oliver," her voice chimed, a hollow, single note sound. "How nice to see you again."

"Isabel." He nodded to the thugs, sending them away. Once they were alone, he turned his attention back to Isabel.

Isabel Rochev was nothing she appeared to be. A polished, pristine ice queen, she held a CEO position similar to Oliver's, at her own company. No one would have expected that underneath her cunning business sense and pressed suits beat the heart of a maniac killer.

"It's been a long time," she continued in Russian. "How have you been?"

Not in the mood for games, Oliver opted for English. "I didn't bring you hear to catch up."

"No, I expect you brought me here to kill me."

Oliver's face betrayed nothing. There was a time when he thought her to be a possible ally, unaware that she had demons of her own and a score to settle.

He stepped closer, just outside a bolt of light coming down from a hole in the roof. The beam sliced his face into sharp, inhuman angles. "That doesn't scare you?"

"No," she replied. "I can die at peace. I've had my revenge." Isabel squared her shoulder, sitting in the cold metal chair as if she were in a board room, instead of tied up in a dirty warehouse. "Your father was sorry when I put the bullet between his eyes. You want to know the best part? The look there. The look that said he regretted ever screwing me over. It was priceless. He was scared to die. I'm not scared."

Oliver clenched his fists, keeping control of the rage bubbling inside of him. "Slade gave you your revenge," he sneered. "You're going to give me Slade."

"No, I'm not," Isabel replied, looking at him like a stupid child. "Nothing you can say will make me."

"You'd protect him? When you're expendable to him?"

"It was never about partnership, it was about convenience," she fired back. "We had a purpose to each other and now that purpose is at an end. That's how business works."

"You haven't talked to Slade in months," Oliver surmised.

Fuck. Another dead end. He turned his back and moved away from her, needing space. Needing to think.

"What's the saying," Isabel wondered, voice echoing against the walls. "The one about revenge. 'While seeking revenge, dig two graves.'"

"What does that mean?" Oliver inquired.

"You've already dug your own grave, I can see it in your eyes. None of those close to you can, I'll bet."Isabel smirked. "Don't worry, Slade will coming again. His plans changed course after that unfortunate accident-" Isabel stopped, dropping her head to laugh, her tiny shoulder shaking. "Speaking of, tell me, how is-"

Isabel didn't get a chance to finish her question. Oliver whirled, pulling a gun from the back of his waistband, and firing it in her direction. The shot rang out across the warehouse, his deadly aim hitting the mark. A spot of crimson bloomed across Isabel's high forehead, running down between a shocked pair of brown eyes, then her head fell forward. Lifeless.

Isabel had been right. The look had been priceless.

Oliver stepped out of the factory and into the day, sliding his the gun back into its hiding place, and his phone from his pocket. He punched Diggle's number.

"It's done," he said and then hung up.

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Oliver almost didn't go back to Felicity's store. Almost. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time that he had slipped from harsh reality to casual normality so quickly. Isabel's blood was on his hands, mixing with the other lives he had taken over the past twelve months. And the ones before. It was part of the game, part of who he had become.

Then he had walked by the window and stopped, looking in at her. Her tongue was tucked between her teeth as she sat perched in front of a shiny laptop-his new computer he presumed-a light in her eyes that technology seemed to spark. The cups from their morning coffee still sat on the counter, yet to be discarded.

Isabel was dead. Slade was near. Soon it would all be done. He'd enjoy the little bits of life while he still could.

Shaking off the blackness, he touched the door handle, and pasted a smile on his face.

Felicity noticed his entrance this time, and looked up to greet him. "How'd it go?"

The question made him wince, but he answered fluidly. "Had to make a few tough decisions," Oliver replied. "But it's all for the best."

"It's not easy being King, I suppose. A Queen who's king," she laughed at her own little word play. "So, I've added a few upgrades and a few extra security features, just in case you need to hide any questionable photos...with all the celebrity hacks these days you can't be too careful. Not that it'd be completely unfortunate to see any of your naked pics." She squeezed her eyes shut, flushing. "I didn't just say that outloud."

Oliver chuckled as Felicity blushed, and ducked her head back down to the computer, fingers rushing along the keys. It was amazing to watch her. She was like Mozart with a laptop. A few moments later she turned the screen in his direction.

"Wanna take her for a spin?"

He held up a hand, shaking his head. "Maybe later," he replied. "Were you able to recover anything from the other one?"

Her answer was slow, calculated. She didn't meet his eyes as she shut the laptop and slipped it into the protective carrying case purchased from the store. "Yes. Everything that was on the old hard drive is now on the new one."

Oliver noticed her change in demeanor, puzzled by it, but brushed it aside. "What do I owe you?"

Felicity grabbed a lime green post-it pad and scribbled a number on to it, ripping off the tiny sheet and handing it to Oliver. He let out a low whistle at the price, raising a brow.

The blonde computer genius shrugged. "You could have gone down the street to Nerd Herd. It cost extra for the best."

Oliver took out his credit card once again and used it to pay Felicity for her services. She worked in silence, swiping the plastic through the tiny square on her tablet and processing in the transaction. When she turned the screen toward him, Oliver swiped his finger, tracing his signature onto the document.

"Thank you, Felicity," he smiled, taking the computer into his hands.

"You're welcome, Oliver."

Unspoken words hung in the space between them as they stood there, still facing one another, Oliver looking down toward her and Felicity grinning back up at him. He rubbed his fingers together at his side, a habit that he had picked up a few years ago, a way to calm himself. For a moment, he thought she might reach out and take his hand to stop the nervous gesture.

Instead her reach dropped and she glanced down arbitrarily at her counter desk, hands picking up a pen and placing it into the cup by the wall. Oliver took it as his cue.

A thought, an idea came to him. He felt the weight of Isabel Rochev's phone in his pocket. The Bratva men had taken her belongings from her when they brought her to the factory and handed them over to Oliver before leaving. Two sides of him argued the practicality of his idea, before he was turning back to Felicity.

"Actually, I have one more favor I wanted to ask." Oliver moved back toward her desk, pulling out Isabel's phone as he did and setting it down in front of her. "A buddy of mine is doing a scavenger hunt, but all of the clues are encoded on this phone. I've been trying to break the code for days, but I've had no luck. Do you think you could take a crack at it?"

"Isn't that cheating?"

Oliver lifted a shoulder and let it drop. "Everyone else playing the game has already cracked it, I'm already behind."

Felicity took the phone and swiped it, pulling up the string of text messages that Oliver pointed out. Taking the phone in her hands, she stared at the symbols. "Hmm," she murmured. "We'll need the guys in the back. Follow me."

She turned toward the back office of the store, Oliver following. Inside was a bank of screens at a long desk. Felicity sat in front of them, and began to pull up a couple applications. "I created a code breaking algorithm when I was at M.I.T. it might be useful," Felicity explained, hooking the phone into her computers. "Code-breaker is my middle name. Actually…it's Megan."

Oliver took the seat next to her, watching her attempt to crack Isabel's phone. His shoulders were tense, worried about what she may stumble upon, but as he rationalized, he didn't have a choice. He was fairly certain the coded messages were between Isabel and Slade. If Oliver had any chance of tracking Slade, Felicity was that chance.

"Oh my god," Felicity gasped, fingers stilling across her keyboard.

"What?" Oliver tensed, glad he was seated just behind her, out of her eye line.

"These messages read like a Bond movie," she replied. "It's all assassinations and power pulls and mafia…type…things." Felicity turned in his direction, eyeing him. "Nothing about a scavenger hunt."

"There's a story behind the hunt. Like a video game. Think Grand Theft Auto."

"Okaaaay," Felicity pushed away from the desk and folding her hands into her lap. "Oliver you seem like a nice guy, but whatever crime family drama you're involved in…I don't want to be in the middle of it."

"Crime family drama?"

"I've read the papers," she explained. "I know the rumors…about your family and the ties to the Russian mafia. I saw some things on the laptop-I'm guessing there is a specific reason that a billionaire playboy who lives in America learned Russian-and now this phone…"

Felicity looked up at him with pleading eyes. Nervousness swirled within her, but bravery, too. She was being honest with him, taking a serious chance in that honesty. If she was at all intimidated by Oliver, or if she truly believed in her own theory, she knew what she was risking in admitting it.

Oliver burst out laughing. "Felicity, you actually believe those rumors about my family? It's part of the game. My friend Steve is playing up on the whole Russian mafia thing."

"Really?"

He affected a hurt expression. "Really," he replied. "It was easier for Starling City to invest belief in rumors about my family's deaths, my disappearance, based on those lies than face the truth."

"What's the truth?"

Oliver swallowed. "That sometimes, people just kill people. For no reason at all."

Silence fell over them, only the quiet hum of Felicity's computers breaking the stillness. They worked for a while longer, in silence. In the end, Felicity was unable to gather any pertinent information. Oliver bit back his disappointment, but took what she gave him.

"I'm sorry I said those things about your family before. My mouth has no filter sometimes. Or any time."

"It's alright, I understand," Oliver assured her, placing a hand at her back as he followed her out of her store.

He stepped around her to open the door and let her step out onto the street ahead of him. Habitually, his eyes assessed the area around them, watching for any signs of danger. Now that Isabel had put the idea of Slade returning in his head, he couldn't help but be on edge.

"Do you have dinner plans?"

"No," Felicity replied, sliding the key to her shop into the lock on the front door. "At least I don't think so, I'd have to check with Sara."

"Who is Sara?"

"My roommate. We've been best friends since high school, then she went away for a while, then showed up last year and moved in with me."

"Felicity, would you like to have dinner with me?"

Felicity's gazed snapped to his. She blinked once, twice. "Dinner? Are you being serious?"

"Yes, completely serious," Oliver replied. "Do you like red wine? Italian?"

"I love red wine," Felicity answered. "But why are you asking me to dinner?"

"Because I've enjoyed spending time with you today and I'd like to extend that time. Shall we say 8pm? At Volare?"

He waited, holding his breath, while she considered. Felicity made him nervous. The idea of her rejection stung.

After a few moments, she gave her reply. "Sure, I'd love to have dinner. I'll meet you there."

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They met that evening, as agreed, at Volare. The restaurant was small, intimate, with white linen table clothes and tiny tea light candles on each table. White twinkle lights were draped artfully along the ceilings, setting a nice romantic glow around the room.

All of the breath in his lungs escaped him when Oliver rounded the corner and saw Felicity, sitting at a table, waiting for him. He'd actually had a moment's panic that she might decide not to meet him. The sunshine in her eyes as she smiled at him stirred his soul as he strode across the room and in her direction. Felicity stood and greeted him.

She looked lovely, in a red dress, hair in soft, shiny curls. The glasses were gone from her face. He pulled her into a friendly hug, catching the edge of perfume that she had applied. It smelled floral, classic.

The waiter sat them, and took their drink orders. Oliver ordered a bottle of red wine, as promised. He smiled, watching Felicity take the first tentative sip, her eyes falling shut as the flavor rolled over her tongue.

"Amazing," she uttered.

"So," Oliver began, unfolding his napkin and laying it across his lap. "Red wine and computers. What else is there to know about Felicity Smoak?"

"I'm not that interesting, I promise," she waved off the question, taking another sip of wine and scanning the menu. "I'm just a normal IT girl."

"I don't believe that," Oliver countered. "Start at the beginning I want to know everything. Where were you born?"

"In a suburb outside of Vegas," Felicity answered. "My mom was…well, she's a cocktail waitress at a casino on the strip."

"And your father?"

"Not sure. He left when I was five. I don't remember him at all. Apparently, he died a few years ago and was super rich. He left me the house I live in now and a trust fund. It gave me enough money to open my store."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Oliver replied.

"It's fine, like I said, I didn't really know him. I remember it hurting a lot when he left but…" her voice trailed off and she turned her head away, biting nervously at her littlest finger. "Sorry, kind of a heavy suject for a first date."

"Second date," Oliver corrected. "I believe our first date was coffee this morning."

"I didn't realize it was a date."

Oliver folded his hands over the table, leaning forward, the candlelight coming from the center flickering over his face. "Felicity, can I be honest with you?"

"Can you?" she challenged.

He smirked at the jab. "I've been walking past your store for three weeks, trying to think of a way to ask you out."

"You have?"

"I have," he nodded. "I want to get to know you. There's no reason for you to be nervous. If anyone should be worrying about making an impression, it's me. I'm the one who is already impressed."

Felicity tried to hide her smile, but it was undeniable. She glowed at the compliment. Oliver had meant every word.

They talked through dinner, an easy rhythm of conversation settling between them. Felicity rambled on about her awkward teenager years, growing up in Vegas, and M.I.T. Oliver listened with rapt attention, drinking in every word, grinning at every animated gesture, laughing at her jokes. For a while he forgot about the Bratva and Isabel, Slade and revenge, and was simply Oliver Queen on a date with Felicity Smoak.

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Oliver was serious about wanting to extend his time with her. Once he picked up the check, he suggested a stroll around downtown Starling. The night was warm and there was an energy in the air. The city was begging to be experienced, and what better way to do it than with the beautiful, intelligent, remarkable blonde at his side.

Felicity's phone rang inside her clutch, she excused herself, answering it. "Hey Sara," she said into the receiver. "No I'm fine, just finished dinner. We'll be home soon." She hung up and slipped the phone back into her purse. "Sorry, that's my friend, she worries."

"Roommate, correct?"

"That's right."

They walked along, coming across a small park. The grass in the middle had been covered in a wooden floor, a small quartet set up in the gazebo, and couples swaying to and fro to the music being played.

Oliver turned toward and extended his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

"I would," she said, slipping her hand into his palm.

He pulled her out into the dance floor, between the other couples, most of them years older than them. Oliver held her close, slipping one arm around her back and holding her hand close to his chest. They swayed together, staring up at each other, caught in each other's eyes just as they had been earlier that day at Felicity's store.

"So," she cleared her throat, looking down at his chest. "I've gone on and on about myself all night. What about the man who is Oliver Queen?"

"What do you want to know?"

"I know the rumors," she replied. "I want to know the truth."

"The truth," he let out a hollow laugh, staring out across the expanse of the park. One of the older couples dance just behind them them. The man held his wife in a way that was similar to how Oliver was holding Felicity at that moment. He noticed matching gold bands on their left ring fingers. "That's pretty heavy for a first date."

"Second," she corrected.

"The truth is this…" Oliver reached up, slipping his hands to her head and pulling her face toward his. Their lips met in a chaste kiss, warmth flowing into his veins at the feel of her mouth under his. He felt her gasp, sliding her hands up to his wrists, but instead of pushing him away she used the grip to keep him there.

A moment later, she was opening her mouth, allowing the kiss to deepen. Oliver took the invitation, sliding his tongue beyond hers lips to meet with hers. He tasted the red wine lingering there as she kissed him back.

The other couples, the music, the entire city dropped away. It was just the two of them on the wooden floor, drinking each other, spinning together as their lips met again and again under the moonlight.

Then she was ripping herself away, pushing his wrists back with her hands, and creating space between them. "I can't," she said. "I'm sorry but I can't."

Felicity spun, running from him and down the street. Oliver followed after her, his long strides allowing him to catch up to her easily. "Felicity," he called, but she didn't stop. "Felicity!"

He reached out, his hand wrapping around her upper arm. Felicity allowed him to stop her and turn her gently to face him. His heart clenched when he saw tears brimming in her eyes. They glistened under the street lights.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"It's not you," Felicity responded. "Well, it's sort of you. But it's mostly me. I thought I could do this. It would be perfect. A one night stand with a real life prince charming. Dinner, dancing, the whole nine yards…but I'm just not that kind of girl."

"What do you mean one night stand? Felicity—"

"All I can ever be is a one night stand!" She was practically shouted it at him on the street. A couple passing by them gave her a look of disgust. Felicity pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to gather her thoughts. "Look, there's no easy or nice way to say this so I'm just going to say it, okay?"

"Okay."

She let out a breath. A breath that held more pain that he realized were behind her bright eyes and shining smiles. "I got into a bad accident a couple of years ago. From what the doctors say I barely survived. But I didn't walk away completely clear. I was in a coma for a few months and when I woke up, my doctors realized that I had a neurological disorder. I have Ivo Syndrome. It's a combination of organic and retrograde amnesia. My brain reset itself for some reason and I can't remember anything from the past three years. When I woke up, the last thing I recalled was graduating from M.I.T. and moving to Starling City."

"That must have been difficult," Oliver said. His hand was still at her arm, now tracing absent, soothing patterns along her skin.

"It's not the worst part," she continued. "The worst is I can't form any new memories. Every day my brain resets to that exact moment. Graduating and moving to Starling, like it's my first day here." A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, falling down her face, and she paused, trying to gain control of her emotions. "No offense, but it's been a really long time since I've been close to anyone and I thought I could do this with you but I can't. I just can't. It's not fair to either of us."

"Felicity…" Oliver moved to cup her cheek, but she pushed his hand away.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening Oliver Queen, it was truly memorable," she winced at her choice of word, pulling away from him. "Good night."

The music from the park band crooned somewhere in the background as Oliver stood watching her dash down the street. If he was the charming prince like she had said, then Felicity was Cinderella, only she wasn't leaving behind any shoes or hopes that he could reach her. She was just gone.

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An hour later, Oliver was still replaying his night with Felicity in his mind. It hadn't gone the way he hoped, but then again, he wasn't sure what he had been hoping for. Now, he only hoped the bottle of scotch he'd opened upon arriving home might provide some answers.

He stared down the wall of glass out to the winking lights of Starling City. Somewhere out there was a blonde that took his breath away and he was at a loss of how to reach her or if he even should. Perhaps her rejection was a blessing in disguise, considering the man he had become. The woman he knew to be Felicity Smoak was not likely to fall for a guy like him.

A knock at his door pulled him from his dark reverie, pricking his ears. He wasn't expecting anyone. Diggle was gone for the night, with Lyla. Perhaps Alexi was coming to collect on the favors he had complained about that morning.

Or it could be Slade, a voice in his head warned.

Oliver moved cautiously to the front door, reaching for the pistol that he had placed on his coffee table earlier. While he was still far enough away to avoid getting shot through the door, he called to the visitor.

"It's um, Felicity."

He peeked through the view hole to see the blonde standing in front of his door, alone. Quickly, he slipped his gun into the drawer in the table next to him, and opened the door. She was still in her dress from their date. Oliver wondered if she had gone home.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Sorry, I know this is really creepy and intrusive," she was wringing her hands in front of her. "I sort of hacked my way to your address and it led me here."

It was hard for Oliver to be angry. Confused, yes, but a light sense of relief unfurled at seeing her again. "Do you want to come in?"

He stepped back and opened the door further, giving her a choice and feeling the relief grow as she stepped inside. Her heels clicked softly against the hardwood of his penthouse.

Felicity's head turned, her eyes taking in the details of his penthouse. Lots of black and lots of expensive decorations and fixtures that held almost no personalization. Nervously, she met his eyes again.

"I just wanted to give you something," she told him. "I lied earlier…when I said I didn't find anything of note for your scavenger hunt. I found this."

From her purse, she pulled out a familiar green post it. She took a moment, a last chance to decide whether or not she wanted to go through with something, and then extended it toward him. Oliver looked down at her writing on the paper. There was an address.

"Felicity—"

"I'm not an idiot, okay? I know there is no scavenger hunt, and I don't really understand what the importance of that location is, but something tells me its pretty important to you. And…I just wouldn't want someone dictating my life or holding back the truth from me. It's your choice what to do with this information. I just…" She folded her lip under her teeth and sighed. "I want you to be careful. Whatever you're involved in…make sure it's worth it."

Oliver looked up at her and the sadness in his eyes struck her hard in the gut. "It's worth it," he replied. "To me, it's all I have left. Thank you for understanding."

Felicity nodded, her eyes trailing down to the floor. An cold sense of sadness invaded her bones. A feeling that she wanted to save him, but was helpless to do so. It was strange to care about someone she'd only just met. Having done what she came to do, she walked back to the doo.

"Felicity," Oliver paused at the door, keeping her from leaving for just a moment longer. Needing to know something. "What made you change your mind?"

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, teeth folding over her plump bottom mouth. Oliver recalled how it had felt to taste her there, wished he could do it again. The wrinkles on her forehead deepened, making her look older and wiser and more troubled than he young age should allow.

"I told myself I could trust you," she answered. "So that's what I'm going to do."

This time it was Oliver who was surprised when she stepped forward and crashed her lips into his. It wasn't a soft, explorative kiss that they had shared in the park. She pressed her mouth firmly against his, pulling him to her with a hand behind his neck. The kiss had a desperate edge to it, that Oliver mirrored, his hands grabbing her hips and pressing her to the door.

Felicity let out a grunt and grasped at his arms, sighing as he pulled away from her lips to blaze kisses down her jaw and neck. The sounds of their desperate pants filled the room, her chest heaving under his lips as he kissed across the top of her breasts.

"Oliver," she whispered, breathless. He looked at her, his cock hardening at the fire alight in her eyes. If she denied him, he felt like he would crumble. In spite of the dangers held in getting involved, he wanted her. He had grown up a spoiled, rich boy always used to getting his way and damn him he would always be that selfish child deep down. "Just tonight, okay? No regrets."

Her words gave him hope and crushed it all at once. His head nodded and then he was hoisting her up into his arms. Her legs wrapped seamlessly around his waist, their bodies moving together as if they were made for one another, created to coexist. He moved them to the bedroom, setting her down just at the foot of his bed. It was dark in the small room, his large bed covered in forest green sheets.

Felicity turned her back to him and his fingers responded, going for the zipper and pulling it down her spine. She shimmied from the red dress, letting it drop to the floor, and turned to face him again, her arms going around his neck. He burned to touch every inch of smooth skin before him.

Oliver threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her in for another deep kiss. He twisted a hand into her curls, his fingers gliding along her scalp, and there he felt it. A scar, thick and short, just behind her ear. The one that reminded him of who she was and of what had happened to her.

He squeezed his eyes shut kissing her hard as they fell into bed together and spent the next few hours in each others arms. The need was intense and unexpected and consumed both of them. Felicity wondered in the back of her mind if it was always like this and Oliver thought that no woman in his entire life, past or future, would ever compare.

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Felicity insisted that it was impossible for her to spend the night and Oliver understood. He did however, insist on taking her home, which was almost foiled when she walked out of his room wearing a pair of his sweats and a gray hoodie. He pulled her in for another searing kiss. They lingered but she stopped it, before things could get heated again. It was late and time to part.

Try as she might to stay alert, she fell asleep during the twenty minute drive it took to get beyond the city limits, to the estate Felicity had called home for the past two years. It loomed grandly in the moonlight. Oliver waved at the guard at the gate as he pulled through, up the long driveway, and to the front door.

Sara was there to greet them at the front steps. He spared a glance at Felicity, who was still fast asleep in the passenger seat, and he got out of the car.

"Long night," Sara said. "You've been with her most of the day haven't you?"

"Pretty much," Oliver replied. "She fell asleep at my place."

Sara arched a brow, but said nothing as Oliver opened the passenger door and lifted Felicity from the seat. He cradled her in his arms, her head coming to rest against his chest. Gently, attempting not to disturb her, he moved her into the house.

It had been a long time since he had stepped foot into his childhood home. Months, by his account. He carried Felicity along the darkened corridors, into her bedroom, and laid her down on the large bed. It always amused him that of all the rooms in the house, she happened to have chosen the one that belonged to him to make her own.

A tiny, contented sigh escaped her throat as he laid her out and tucked her in. His hands caressed her cheek and he bent to kiss her head, lingering over the warm feel of her skin and the smell of her hair. On the table next to the bed was a pair of glasses and her tablet. He grabbed the tablet and then eased out of the room, downstairs, to find Sara.

The young blonde was in the kitchen, steeping a cup of tea. The smell of the spices wafted up from the steaming mug.

"Do you mind if I stay here tonight?" he asked.

Sara shrugged. "It's your house."

"It doesn't belong to me anymore, it belongs to her," he replied, standing across from Sara, on the other side of the island. "How have things been?"

"Fine," Sara answered. "The doctors see no progression. Her CT scans are still showing the same results they did the day she woke from the coma. I'm sorry, Oliver."

Oliver bit back a curse. It was the news he was expecting. It was the same news Sara and the doctors always had for him since that first day Felicity had woken up, not knowing who he was or anything about the recent years of her life. He wasn't mad at her, his anger was directed elsewhere, deep within.

"It's better this way, I should have never—"He choked on the words. Memories of the first day they met gripping him tight, cutting into him like a rusty knife. He would hold these memories until he died. But Felicity would never know them. She would never know how much of their first day together mirrored the very afternoon they had just shared.

When they had first met at QC, Felicity had known right away who he had was and what demons darkened his doorstep. Instead of running from him, she had run toward him. She had trusted him, helped him, and fallen for him. He had never expected her. He had never expected Felicity to become his light and his life and the thing that kept him going in his darkest moments. He had fallen too, slowly and deeply.

She'd helped him track down those responsible for his family's fall, even when her morals questioned his methods, but she kept his secrets. In the end, they were too late to save his mother and sister, but she never abandoned him. No matter how much he challenged her or pushed her, she never backed down.

Then Slade had come, with his vendetta against Oliver. And fate was cruel hearted. Oliver had paid the price for his father's sins and now Felicity was paying the price for his.

"John said you found Isabel," Sara inquired. "Did you kill her?"

"I did."

"Did it make the pain go away?"

Oliver looked up at her with cold, dead eyes. Just like Diggle, Sara had her opinions about the path Oliver was set on. "I'll rest when I find Slade and put a bullet in him."

"Oliver, vengeance doesn't fix anything," Sara pleaded. "If Felicity knew—"

"Felicity would tell me to stop him," Oliver snapped back. "She would tell me to do whatever it took."

"Yes, when you were trying to save your family, the people you cared about. Not when you are just out for blood!"

His fists balled at his sides and his jaw tightened. "It's about protecting her. She won't be safe until Slade his in the ground. He let her live for now, but that won't last forever." Tired of the conversation and the entire day, he picked up the tablet. "I'm going upstairs to sleep. I'll be gone before dawn."

Oliver left Sara in the kitchen and headed to one of the guest rooms, close to where Felicity slept. He pulled off his shirt and climbed between the sheets, wearing only the loose pants he had left his apartment in.

His fingers swiped over the tablet and he scrolled through the screen with his finger. There was a file marked "Journal" that he clicked on and opened. Inside the folder was a collection of videos and word documents. Days upon days of Felicity's life for the past two years, stored into her computer memory, because her own ability to store memory was now nonexistent.

It was intrusive and terrible of him, but Oliver couldn't help himself. He opened the file marked "Read Me! DAILY!" and opened it up.

The usual things were there. Facts listed that Felicity felt were useful to know every day upon waking. Where she lived, who she lived with, where she worked, the story Oliver had Sara create about her father leaving her the estate and the trust fund, when really everything she had financially had once belonged to Oliver. The Queen family was all but dead, there was no one else, he saw no reason why everything he had shouldn't belong to Felicity, even if she didn't realize where it had come from or why.

Oliver and Sara had argued—had damn near come to fists—when he announced that he was erasing himself from Felicity's life. When she had woken up from the coma, not knowing who he was to her, he decided it was for the best. It was safer if she didn't know or remember their relationship. He'd gifted her his family's mansion and most of his trust fund, claiming that it was her estranged father who had done the leaving and adding it to the myriad things her brain had blocked out.

He'd left Felicity behind, to her clean slate, a chance at a happy life and turned to his quest for revenge. A chance meeting had sent it all crashing to the ground.

The past twelve months he had visited, as a stranger each time. Some days she rebuffed him, other days they simply had a lunch or shared a short conversation over coffee. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been able to kiss her. That night was the first night that he had been able to hold her or make love to her since before the accident.

The first time they had "met," Oliver had called Sara, warning her to swipe Felicity's journal while she slept and be sure to erase any mention there might be of him. It had been a mistake to interact with her, considering how much he had changed. After that day though, he couldn't help himself. He stayed in her life in small ways, but also kept his distance.

Each time he saw her again; he felt the same war of regret and relief. He desperately wished she remembered him but was glad when she gave him the same blank, polite smile she would bestow to any stranger. No matter how much it twisted his gut.

Being close to her that evening, touching her, feeling her kisses and her love gave him a dangerous high. A part of him hoped that maybe, deep down, there was something in her that still held to their connection, that gave her the reason to trust him and to let him in even if it was, as she said, for only one night.

Flipping through the files on the tablet, Oliver watched and read, listening to the inner thoughts and day to day musing of Felicity and trying-in the only way that he knew how-to get to know the woman he loved.

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"Felicity, you can't go. I can't risk this."

"Oliver, it's my life, my choice."

Oliver growled. "There's got to be another way."

The partition was up in the back of the town car, the driver unable to hear their discussion. They had argued about it for the past three weeks. Oliver wasn't going to let Felicity go through with her plan, no matter if was their best shot.

"Your sister is still out there, I believe it, we get this close to him and we can find her," Felicity insisted. She had never even met the girl, and yet she wanted to find her as much as Oliver did. She'd been tracking for months, trying to find a trail, even the smallest hint of his mother and sister's whereabouts. "Your mother risked her life to send us that message."

"It's too risky. I'm—" he stopped, curling his lip under his teeth in frustration. "I'm not willing to risk you to save my sister."

It was hard to say the words. Oliver almost felt like he was choosing one over the other. He hated himself for it, but there was nothing he could do.

Felicity unhooked her belt, scooting closer toward him. She reach up and cupped his face with her hands, forcing his eyes to look directly into hers. "You've risked your life for months to save your family. You have the chance to do just that. I'm not going to let you let it pass by. I love you too much."

"I love you," Oliver said to her. "I just can't let something happen to you. It's…unthinkable."

Felicity shook her head. "Nothing will happen to me. I promise."

"I thought we always said we'd never make promises we couldn't keep." His lips brushed hers, one hand gripping her thigh over her skirt.

Before the kiss could deepen, a loud screech tore them apart. The car spun, rolling, and Felicity was thrown away from him, tumbling with the vehicle. Oliver called her name, hanging upside down, held by his seatbelt.

The sound of gunshots cracked the air and Oliver felt his skin burn, bullets burying into his stomach and arms. Blackness threatened his vision, but he fought for consciousness. Glass littered the ground all around him and smoked invaded his lungs.

He gasped through the pain and shock, his eyes darting to Felicity's still body on the ground, a large gash leaking blood from her head.

"Felicity!" He yelled struggling against the restraints of his seatbelt. "Felicity!"

Oliver!

His name jerked him from the nightmare memory of the accident. He shot up in bed, Felicity's tablet dropping onto the carpeted floor. Sweat covered his head and chest and he gulped in precious air, trying to slow his heart.

"Oliver!"

It was real. She was calling his name from inside her room. In a flash he threw back the covers and leapt from the bed. It was still dark in the house. He hadn't been dozing for more than a half hour.

Another yell from her ripped through him as he burst through the doors of his old bedroom and saw Felicity in bed, struggling against the covers. He went to her, holding her shoulders, gently trying to wake her from the nightmare in her sleeping mind.

Her blue eyes, opened, crystal as ever and full of fright. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath and calm down.

"Oliver," she breathed his name.

The sound of his name made his heart still. She was looking right at him, staring him in the face, and naming him. She knew who he was, she recognized him. It was impossible. It was a miracle. Everything he had been scared to hope for. Felicity saw him.

His right hand cupped her head. "It's okay, I'm here."

Her hands reached up to his chest, one palm covering the Bratva tattoo on his right side. The momentary look of relief on her face changed, forming into a sharp edge of terror. "What?" she gasped, pushing at him. "Who are you? Where am I?"

Her eyes darted around and she attempted to shrink away from him, moving and scrambling back, slamming against the headboard.

"Felicity…" Oliver held his hands up in a gesture of peace, trying to hold back just how shattered he felt.

"How do you know my name?" She was yelling know, frantic. Oliver had never seen her so scared. "What happened? I don't—I don't remember." Sara burst into the room at that moment, Felicity's head whipping into the direction of the door. "Who is that?"

Oliver realized that without her contacts and in the darkness, she wouldn't be able to see. But he also knew that she had no idea who he was. They had been close before, faces nearly touching. Before the accident, Felicity had always known him, even in the darkest of places. Her eyes held no recognition now, only confusion and terror.

She didn't recognize him or remember the nights that she had spent with him in that very room, in that very bed with him, tangled in the sheets, sleeping against his chest. Slade and the accident he had caused in the attempt on Oliver's life had taken it all away. All of the mornings they shared, the friendship, the partnership, the looks of love and lust and hope, the arguments and the trials and everything they had been through together. It was all gone, turned to nothing, reset every morning when Felicity woke up and again didn't remember who he was.

She was in hysterics as Sara moved forward, sedative in hand. Diggle was there, too, moving to hold Felicity still as Sara injected her.

Felicity fought, frightened and crying and begging. In her mind she was struggling for her life. Oliver felt helpless. There was nothing he could do. He was only a stranger to her at most, not a source of comfort or protection. He backed away from the seen, unable to take it, and turned away letting Sara and Diggle take over. As he headed down the hall, Felicity's cries subsided. The drugs took over and once again she was fast asleep.

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Oliver didn't sleep that night, which was amazing, considering he had been awake for almost forty eight hours. He met the dawn again, dressing and heading downstairs to tell Sara goodbye. She was making coffee.

The woman gave him a smile meant to be a comfort as he entered the kitchen, and took a second cup from the cupboard.

"She's been having nightmares for a few months now," Sara told him. "Always about the crash. We have to sedate her to get her back to sleep. When she wakes up like that, she panics."

Oliver said nothing as he filled his cup.

"We were glad at first, we thought maybe it was a sign. But there is little known about how dreams work in connection with memory and brain function. The doctors are more focused on what she knows and what her brain is doing while she is awake."

"I put the tablet back on her nightstand, she'll see it in the morning," Oliver said. "I erased any mention of my name."

Sara nodded, but made no reply. It would be wasted breath. He was already well aware of her opinions and they hadn't changed.

"Felicity cracked Slade's code," Oliver told her. "I know where to find him."

"What? How—" then she realized what Oliver wasn't saying that was more important. "You can't go in to get Slade alone. It's a suicide mission."

"Whatever happens, happens. As long as I get Slade."

"You can't just walk into your own funeral."

"Sara he took everything from me! My father, my mother, my sister, Felicity!"

Sara made a motion warning him to watch the volume of his voice. "In case you haven't noticed, Felicity is still alive, she's still here Oliver. She's still the person she's always been! If you—"

"Felicity has a chance to live without me, without the mess that is my life. You think this stops with Slade? There are other enemies. There is Bratva, the Triad, take your pick! My father dug our family into a deep, dark hole. I thought once—I thought we could get out of it. I thought I could make things right. But I can't. I know better now. My only regret is that she had to suffer for me to see that."

The conversation paused, the sound of footsteps padding toward them halting their discussion.

Felicity appeared in the doorway, glasses perched on her nose, tablet in hand. She looked bright, groggy, but happy; completely unaware of her nightmares or even their date. Their day together had seemed a lifetime ago.

"Oops, I didn't know you had…company," Felicity said, eyeing Oliver and Sara, making assumptions. "I'll just come back for coffee later."

Sara was about to explain, but Felicity had skipped past the room. Oliver let out a breath and turned to go gather his things from upstairs.

"Please don't do this. Don't give up," Sara begged.

"It's done."

When he returned back downstairs, Felicity had come into the kitchen, bugging Sara about her "one night stand."

"He was hot," Felicity commented. "If you don't mind me saying so."

Sara laughed. "You can say it."

"Where did you even meet Oliver Queen?"

Oliver cleared his throat, entering, not missing the way Felicity started. He did his best to pretend he hadn't been eavesdropping. She smiled brightly.

"I'm gonna take off," he said, looking over at Sara. She nodded and turned back to making breakfast.

Felicity picked up the conversational reins. "Nice meeting you, sort of."

Oliver smiled and nodded, then disappeared

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Three mornings later, Sara sat in the Queen-now-Smoak Mansion's living room, a cup of steaming coffee in her hands and the television turned to the news. She'd been watching diligently morning, noon, and night, her nails bitten down to the quick from worrying so much.

John hadn't heard from Oliver. No one had. All of her calls and texts to his cellphone had gone unanswered. The only thing they did know was Slade was dead. Police had found his body in the basement of the abandoned Queen Factory. Sara had been able to hack her way into the police files and knew that Oliver had delivered the killshot through his eye.

Felicity appeared downstairs at her usual time. It was Saturday, but she never slept in, a side effect from never knowing what day it was until she woke up. She had her tablet in her hand and coffee in the other. Sara smiled warmly.

"Morning," she greeted. "How are you?"

"Confused, a little sad, but according to my notes that's how I always feel when I wake up," Felicity answered. "I guess I shouldn't complain, though. It's not every day a girl wakes up to discover she's an heiress. Unless that girl is...me."

"You're cute," Sara chuckled. "Anything of note in the journal?"

"Nothing yet," Felicity replied. "Though I'm considering modifying the way I keep track of things. It seems like it's worked for the past twelve months but, how am I going to be able to read over a bunch of notes in ten, twenty, thirty years?"

"I'm sure you could invent something," Sara encouraged.

"Then maybe it can help other people like me!"

Sara smiled, but the happiness was short lived when the news began playing.

"We have a breaking story, Starling City. It seems there is a new chapter to add to the tragic story of the Queen Family. The body of billionaire and current CEO of Queen Consolidated, Oliver Queen, was found this morning off the coast of Starling Bay. As most of you may remember, the past five years have been very difficult for the Queen family, all beginning with Oliver's initial disappearance, followed by his father's murder and then the subsequent kidnappings and murders of his mother, Moira Queen, and younger sister, Thea. SCPD are still investigating the details of his death, but for now the chief of police is ruling it as an apparent suicide and no foul play is suspected."

Sara swallowed back her tears, keeping her face neutral. Oliver was a stranger, not a friend. Her mind went to John, wondering if he had heard the news. She turned back to Felicity and was surprised to see the woman crying. A single tear streak running down her face.

"Felicity," she said gently, "are you okay?"

"Huh?" Felicity jerked into awareness and reached up to feel the wetness on her cheek. It seemed she didn't even realize she had started to crying. She quickly wiped the tear away with a sniff.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, it's just really sad, for their whole family," she answered and held up her tablet. "I'm gonna take this to my room."

Sara gave her a smile, content to be alone for the moment, to grieve for her friend.

Felicity walked away, her pace quickening the further and further she got away from Sara. Once in her room, she set down her tablet and coffee and locked the door.

Some instinct was controlling her reaction, she was a little disoriented, but considering her condition she felt the need to trust it. Felicity Smoak had always been a brain. Her mind was her greatest strength and tool. She trusted it to work in ways and make connections, even if she couldn't readily comprehend them. The moment her brain told her to go to her room and look in the secret box beside her bed, she obeyed.

On her bedside table was a book, that sat underneath a vase. She removed the vase and opened the book, finding a hollowed out little box with a flash drive inside.

She took the tiny drive to the laptop on her desk and plugged it in, halted by the password.

It didn't take her long to hack the encryption on the flash drive, and realized it was because she created it. The entire drive was full of video files. They were catalogued in a similar fashion to the journal kept on her tablet. Felicity clicked on the first one and opened it.

"Okay, so this is a little crazy and I'm not sure how well it'll work." Felicity was watching herself in the video. It was another journal, she realized. She had two journals, but why?

"I think someone is tampering with the journal on the tablet, things don't line up correctly, I just noticed it today…so I'm going to try to keep this other one that no one will know about. This experiment could go a little crazy, because I can't leave behind any signs that these files even exists. But," her video self paused, taking a deep breath, "here goes nothing."

Felicity clicked out, studying the names of the files, each organized by day with a few subject key words. It looked like she had started making the videos around seven months ago. Her brow furrowed when she got to the middle and she moved her face closer to the screen of the computer, unsure she was even reading it correctly, the label of it bring up a million questions.

Oliver Queen.

Her fingers moved over the trackpad, the arrow clicking on the folder. There were more video files, all of herself. Curiously, she clicked on the first one.

"I mentioned Oliver Queen in one of my earlier entries," her video self explained. "I met him again today. I don't remember our initial meeting, obviously, but when I say again I mean know now it was not the first time. I'm not sure how many times we've met before. He bumped into me at Big Belly Burger, spilled coffee all over my table and then we just started talking. We finished breakfast together and that was that. He went about his day and I went to the shop." Felicity's video self shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't even realize he wasn't a stranger until I came home and found this flash drive. I searched the meta data for his name and it popped up. One other time. He's not a stranger…but he acted like one."

Felicity stopped the video. She moved to another file and clicked it open.

"Today was the fifth time, according to this file, that I've met Oliver Queen. He pretends to be a stranger. Either he has an even worse memory than I do, or…I don't even know. I'm starting to wonder if I knew him in another life. My other life, the bits of it I can't remember. The question is…why doesn't he seem to remember either?"

Felicity went through the videos, each and every one. Research she had culled about Oliver Queen, his family history, the recent events of his past, his disappearance. Her video self had been hoping to find traces of herself within his life but there was nothing. She knew from her journal that she had once been an employee at Queen Consolidated, his family's company, for a short period of time but they had never crossed paths. Oliver had been CEO after his father while she had been nothing more than a lowly IT girl, before quitting and opening the shop with what she had inherited from her father.

She clicked on the most recent video she had made.

"I don't know what keeps bringing me here every time I see him or hear his name," video Felicity shook her head, a stupid smile spread across her face. "There's not even a guarantee that I do, but it seems like I do. There's something connected with Oliver Queen in my memory, I wish I could figure it out. He kissed me today. It felt familiar-weirdly familiar-like we had done it a million times before. I don't know. Maybe just wishful thinking. But if these video journals are anything to go by, he's something special. He's something…more than he pretends to be. And I want to find out. If you see him again though, you can trust him. If I've figured out nothing else from these videos and my research, it's that you can trust Oliver."

Tears streaked down her face at the last video. Felicity had to remove her glasses, she was crying so hard. It was agony, not to be sure of the reason she was even crying in the first place. It was like crying over fictional characters in a novel or television show. Even though she had been watching herself narrate the story of her relationship with Oliver Queen, it didn't seem real.

The thing she realized, though, was something had brought her to the flash drive. As she had said earlier in the video, something had made her come to that hidden spot in her bedroom, for reasons she didn't know, and make the discovery she had just made.

Felicity reach over and grabbed a few tissues from the box at her desk, dabbing her eyes. She clicked open the video application on her laptop, and with a deep breath, began to record.

The red light blinked and her face appeared, red and tear stained. She had no idea what to say to herself.

"Oliver Queen," she rolled the name across her mouth, testing its feel. "I think I might have seen him yesterday. It would make it the twentieth time I've seen him in the past nine months. I—" she stopped, words twisting her throat, and cried out, dropping her chin. The pain she felt was becoming physically, her whole body rejecting the idea that he was gone. Forever.

It was difficult to even think the words, let alone say them, but she had to get them out. For nothing more than her own memory.

"Oliver Queen, is dead. It was on the news this morning. I started crying. I didn't even know why and I didn't even realize it at first, but I watched the story and then there were suddenly tears on my face. Sara gave me a weird look, but she seemed like she wanted to cry, too. I didn't even realize I knew him, until a few hours ago. But all these videos suggest differently."

Felicity sucked in a large breath, and let it out, slowly. Her eyes were bloodshot on screen, the skin around them pink and tired. She wasn't even sure of the point of the video or keeping the journal. Oliver was dead, she would never see him again. But she just couldn't let it go, she couldn't let the story simply end. There was more to say. Felicity liked to talk, a lot, as evidence by her journals. She didn't always know what she was saying and most of the time she said the wrong things, but in the midst of those wrong things, the right words came out.

So she opened her mouth, and let the rambles take over, knowing she would eventually figure it all out.

"I knew Oliver Queen, but I don't remember him. He pretended to be a stranger to me every time we met and I never knew why but I think—I think in another life I might have loved him. And I think he might have loved me too."

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Hope it was worth the time reading! :) Thanks for doing so!

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