Stumbling her way into the club was probably an awful sign for the night ahead, but Felicity shrugged it off, squaring her shoulders determinedly before ducking inside the club. She spotted Roy from halfway across the room, his back against the bar and his eyes scanning the crowd. He grinned wide and welcoming when he saw her, gestured behind him at the bartender before pushing off his stool to stride through the crowd to meet her.

"You look amazing." he greeted, pulling her in against his chest.

She rolled her eyes, but wrapped her arms around his back. "My feet already hurt."

Roy pulled back, looking down between them at the neon orange skyscraper heels she was balancing on. "I can see why." he cocked a brow up, settling his hand in the small of her back as he guided her back toward where he'd been sitting.

"Oh, shut up." She climbed up onto the empty stool beside Roy's, pulling the hem of her navy blue dress down when it rode up to mid-thigh. "I don't often get the chance to wear club clothes, especially lately."

"You won't hear any complaints from me." Roy shrugged, something bright glinting in the depths of his eyes.

He handed her the drink he'd ordered, plucking the lime wedge of its rim and popping it into his mouth with a grin. Felicity sipped at the minty concoction, licking across her bottom lip to swipe at some sugar crystals clinging to her lipstick.

Roy cleared his throat, blinking a few times in rapid succession as he looked away, dropping the lime down onto his napkin. "So, what do you want to do first?" he asked, tipping his head toward the packed dance floor. "Shots or a dance?"

"Shots." she answered quickly, already flagging down the bartender again. "I need to be at least three shots deep before I subject the general public to my dance moves."

Chuckling before tossing back a shot of something clear, Roy set his glass down with a thunk and shook off the alcohol's burn. "I've seen you move, Felicity."

It was her turn to kink a brow at him. He shrugged again, but his mouth turned up at the corner and Felicity felt herself blush. "Then you know what a spaz I am when I dance."

"Sure." Roy's twitching lips pulled into a full-blown smirk, edges sharp and unrepentant. "We'll go with that."

Felicity reached out and slapped him playfully on the arm, smiling her thanks when the bartender set a row of shots down in front of them.

"Alright, Harper." she announced, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose and tossing her hair over one shoulder. "Let's do this."

The lair was dark, no lights illuminated except the ones in Oliver and Roy's costume cases. Oliver paced in shadow, jaw set hard and shoulders rigid. Every so often he let his eyes slide up to the clock on the wall, stomach clenching uncomfortably with every passing moment.

"You okay, man?"

Oliver jumped, one hand automatically reaching for the quiver not currently sitting at his shoulder. He caught himself before he completed the movement, instead running his hand through his hair in the hopes that Digg wouldn't think anything of the aborted gesture.

"I'm fine." he lied.

Digg gave him an unimpressed look, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't speak, just waited.

"Really, Digg, I'm alright." Oliver assured, forcing his feet to still in their repetitive path. "Just got a lot going on in here." he admitted, waving a hand at his temple.

Digg's expression softened. "If you want to talk about it…"

"I know." Oliver dipped his chin in acknowledgement, carefully avoiding meeting Digg's eye.

"Call me if you need anything, yeah?" John prompted, slipping into his jacket.

"You heading out?" Oliver questioned, attempting to keep his tone casual.

John simply nodded. "I promised Roy and Felicity I'd meet them for a drink before I went home for the night."

Tamping down on the growl threatening to spill from his lips, Oliver offered what he hoped was a convincing smile. It probably looked more like a grimace, but there wasn't any helping that, so he didn't bother. "Have a good time." he said instead, aware that his voice sounded wrong.

Diggle hesitated, but shook his head and headed for the stairs. "I'll see you tomorrow, Oliver."

"Yeah," Oliver mumbled, more to himself than anything. "Tomorrow."

John was barely gone five minutes before Oliver grabbed his leathers from their case and headed for his bow.

"John!" Felicity practically squealed, launching off of her stool and throwing her arms around the man's neck as soon as she caught sight of him.

He huffed a breath out from her collision with his chest, but wrapped an arm around her waist all the same. "Hey, Felicity." he laughed, then over her shoulder to Roy, "How much has she had to drink?"

Roy swiped a hand over his mouth, shaking his head in amusement. "A bit."

"Obviously."

"I thought you were gonna bring Lyla?" Felicity pouted up at him, fisting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow.

"She wasn't feeling well, said to tell you to call her tomorrow."

Sighing her acceptance, Felicity climbed back up on her seat, swinging it a bit from side to side before she settled. "Want a drink?" she asked, leaning way too far over the bar counter to wave down their bartender.

Digg glanced at Roy, who only shrugged, and relented. "Yeah." he agreed. "Just one or two, though. I want to get home to Sara before Lyla has to get up with her." Felicity wasn't much listening, too busy telling the bartender what exactly went into a Jack and Coke, so Digg turned his full attention on Roy. "Neither one of you is driving out of here tonight."

Roy didn't argue, just dropped Felicity's car keys into the palm John held toward him. "Wasn't planning on driving, anyway." he promised. "I was gonna call a cab."

"Not going to happen." Digg pocketed the keys. "I'll drive you guys home."

"Yay!" Felicity swung around on her stool, nearly spilling the drink she held into her lap. "Does that mean you'll stay and dance with me?" she asked, eyes big and round, shining bright under the club lights.

John chuckled, stripping out of his jacket and tossing it over the back of her seat. "Sure, Felicity. Whatever you want."

The shadows never seemed to release Oliver, anymore. Everywhere he went, everything he did, the shadows clung to him like barnacles. Inside his head, against his skin and over his eyes, the shadows stayed constant.

Inescapable.

Unless Felicity was nearby, he reminded himself with a tendril of some foreign, uncomfortable feeling unfurling in his chest. He recalled how surprised he'd always been when the shadows slunk back, just enough to let him breathe, whenever Felicity entered a room. They retreated at the mere sight of her, hovering around the edges of Oliver's vision, waiting. It was as though she burned them away, like some part of him inherently knew that she was the only source of light he could trust to banish the darkness lingering around him.

With a quiet grunt grating in the hollow cavity of his chest, Oliver widened his stance, shifting his knees a bit further apart so he could press closer to the wall he was using as coverage. The sounds of the city echoed far beneath his position, sounding muted and distant though he was only a few stories above. He listened intently, cocked his head to one side to listen for the telltale sound of someone entering LaCroix's apartment.

For someone who made a fortune off of selling drugs, to high school students and supervillains alike, LaCroix lived in a shitty neighborhood, in an even shittier fourth floor walk-up apartment. The building's brick exterior was crumbling, red dust coating the sidewalk below. LaCroix didn't even have a dog, much less a security system. Oliver wondered briefly over why LaCroix hadn't hired some muscle after the last attempt on his life, but assumed he never really imagined that the Arrow would return. After all, he'd given his warning, encouraged him to keep his mouth shut and shot an arrow into his shoulder just to make sure the point was crystal clear. LaCroix probably thought that was the end of it.

Of course, with Merlyn involved, there was never truly going to be an end.

Pressed in tight to Roy's chest, her chin tucked into the curve of his shoulder and her weight resting almost completely against him, Felicity was content. She swayed in place, letting Roy guide her and trusting him to keep her standing. The soft throb of the music's beat reverberated behind her ribs, made her eyes sink closed and her brain swim pleasantly.

It's not that she was drunk, exactly, she was just…

Okay, yeah, she was a little drunk. She was entitled to it, though, especially after everything she'd been through in the last few months. Why shouldn't she let loose a little, let her hair down and enjoy the feeling of being held in someone's arms? What was so wrong with wanting to feel safe when your entire world felt like it was falling apart around you?

"Maybe we should get you home." Roy murmured softly, his lips close to her ear. "You feel like you're falling asleep where you stand."

Felicity pushed away from his chest, shaking her head. "I'm awake," she protested, blinking quickly to show that her eyes were, indeed, open. "I'm just super comfortable."

One side of his mouth quirked up, that something from earlier creeping back into his eyes. "Good to know you're comfortable with my arms around you."

Felicity snorted. "Of course I am! How could I sleep with you if I didn't like being in your arms?"

Roy bit his lips together, shoulder shaking silently.

"Crap. Ugh, you know what I meant."

"Come on, let's go back to your place." Roy suggested, tugging her hand gently until she let him lead her toward where Digg was sitting at the bar.

"I'm not ready to go to bed yet, though, so we have to stop and get ice cream." Felicity bartered, wobbling a bit with each step. "There are like six episodes of Supernatural on my DVR that need to be watched."

Roy sighed, long and loud, like he thought she had no idea he actually loved the show. Felicity secretly wondered if Roy thought of Oliver as his Dean—the one who taught him everything he knew, taught him how to be who he was now. She wasn't sure if that made Roy Cas or Sam in the equation, but she hadn't really wanted to think too hard about that point.

Hell, at least it didn't make him Crowley.

"Malcolm is totally Metatron." she declared suddenly, practically cackling when her mind made the comparison.

Roy glanced over his shoulder, tilting his head like a confused puppy. "What?"

Giggling to herself, she shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind."

"You two about ready to call it a night?" Digg asked as they approached, setting his water down on the bar.

"No," she responded honestly, "but Roy's going to buy me ice cream, so I'm cool with it."

Roy rolled his eyes, huffing a laugh as he slung his jacket around her shoulders. "Come on, Blondie. There's a pint of mint chip out there with our names on it."

The street below had settled, quieting down at a steady rate for the last half an hour. Oliver was getting restless. He wasn't exactly thrilled about this job as it were, but he knew that if he didn't get it done Malcolm would pull out all the stops in order to punish him.

The thought of Merlyn made Oliver's rage burn in his chest, images of Thea flashing through his mind. This—everything he'd done, was continuing to do—it was all for Thea. He would do anything to protect her, to keep her out of Malcolm's hands. Even if that meant breaking his vow to Tommy, or shoving down the sparks of whatever it was he thought he might have once felt for Felicity, he would do it.

Thea's survival outweighed everything else.

The sound of the front door opening beneath him caught his attention. Oliver held his breath, waiting until the sound of footsteps faded toward the back of the apartment. Sliding his mask back into place over his eyes, Oliver stood upright. He pushed himself up to straddle the lip of the roof, swinging his legs out and using the building beside him as leverage to pull his weight a few feet to the left. He landed on LaCroix's fire escape with barely a sound from his boots making contact, but winced when the rusted metal creaked ominously beneath him. Moving on reflex, Oliver braced himself against the wall, using the lip of the window's frame to lift himself up out of view.

He listened intently, was unsurprised to hear the curtains rustle below him. Remaining stock still, Oliver heard the window open and waited. The window closed again after a moment of silence, the soft sound of the lock sliding into place immediately followed by the sound of what Oliver thought was LaCroix's bedroom door closing with a quiet snick. He waited another minute before he risked moving, then shifted to find footing on the concrete windowsill, avoiding the fire escape altogether.

It didn't take much for him to flip the window's lock open again. One precise swipe of a blade between the window panes and the lock gave way without a sound. Oliver was a little disappointed, honestly, with how easy it was to get to LaCroix this time. At least the last time he'd had to knock out a bodyguard or two to get into the apartment. The lack of barriers to his target made him wary, but he continued on his mission, his sister's face hovering in his mind's eye like a glaring reminder of why he was here at all.

Senses on high alert, skin prickling with an awareness he couldn't place, Oliver let himself inside. He moved silently through the apartment, side stepping clothes and other clutter that were strewn all over the floor. Nocking an arrow, Oliver pressed his back into the wall and took a steadying breath. He leaned around the corner, heart falling down toward his feet in a sickening swoop.

He hadn't been prepared to come face to face with the barrel of a gun.

Tucked under Roy's arm on her sofa, Felicity pulled her knit blanket more snugly around her. She enjoyed being snuggled close together, a blanket around their shoulders and a pint of ice cream shared between them. Her inebriation had mostly worn off by then, thanks to the pizza and ice cream Roy forced her to eat, but she was still warm and completely at ease. She smiled whenever Roy laughed at Sam and Dean's one liners, laughed with him at Cas' endearing obliviousness, and awww'd all by herself at the budding relationship between Dean and Cas' pseudo-daughter, Claire.

"I don't get it." Roy said, frowning.

"Of course you don't." Felicity agreed, swallowing down a spoonful of ice cream. "They're not your OTP."

Roy looked at her like she'd suddenly sprouted another head. "My what?"

"Your OTP." She lifted one shoulder, ignoring her sweater as it slipped down her arm. "Dean and Cas. You don't ship them, do you?"

If possible, Roy looked even more confused. "Ship?"

"Yeah," Felicity stabbed her spoon into the pint. "Like, you don't want to see them in a relationship, right? So, you don't ship them."

"Okay…" Roy frowned, like he'd never thought about it and wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it now that he had. "So, what's an OTP?"

"One True Pairing." Felicity explained around a mouthful. "It means-"

"I think I get it." Roy cut in, humor dancing in his eyes. "So, Dean and Cas? That's your OTP or whatever?"

"For this show, yeah. I have tons more, though. Don't even get me started on this, okay? We'll be here all night."

Roy's shoulders lifted and when he spoke his voice was warm and sincere. "I don't have anywhere else to be."

Felicity's gaze flicked up to meet his eyes, catching that same glittering wisp of whatever it was she'd seen earlier. She swallowed thickly, feeling her cheeks heat up. Roy's eyes skipped down to her lips, just for a second, and then they were meeting hers again.

"You got big plans or something?" he teased.

Or, she thought he was trying to tease her, anyway. The way it came out sounded wrong, though, like his voice had been dragged over hot coals and broken glass.

"No," she denied softly. "No plans."

Silence hung between them for a moment, thick with a tension that hadn't always been there.

"Felicity, I-"

"Did you hear that?" she interrupted, craning her head over the back of the couch to glance toward her front door and the window beside it.

Roy listened, then shook his head. "What did you hear?"

"I don't know. It sounded like a cat or something was on the porch."

"Doesn't your neighbor have a cat?" he asked.

"Yeah." she replied slowly, turning her attention back to their conversation. "Sorry, what were you going to say?"

Roy dragged a hand over his face, shifting around so that he was angled more toward her. "I just- Look, I know that you're in love with Oliver, and I'm all kinds of hung up on Thea, and this is probably the worst idea in the history of ideas, but I have to know."

"Have to know wha-"

She wasn't all the surprised when Roy leaned in and kissed her. She would have been more surprised if he hadn't, actually. Once upon a time, she probably would have been shocked by the feeling of his lips pressing into hers, but things were different between them now. Everything was different. She and Roy had spent so much time together over the last few months, shared a living space, shared a bed… It was a wonder this hadn't happened sooner, really.

Felicity thought about pulling away, of what would happen if she pushed him away gently and told him that she loved him, but she was in love with Oliver and this couldn't happen. But then, she thought about how nice it was to feel wanted. How nice it was to feel someone else's lips against hers, another person's skin warm and soft where it met hers. She let herself think about Roy, of how much she truly did love him. She remembered the way he'd been there for her though the worst of Oliver being gone, how he'd let her cry on his shoulder a thousand times over and never judged her for a second. She let herself recall the way they laughed together, the way they fit. Their relationship, their friendship, was natural, fulfilling. Roy meant the world to her.

So, instead of pulling away, Felicity leaned into Roy's kiss. She let him wrap an arm around her back, let him pull her closer to his chest and flick his tongue against her bottom lip. She let him nip at her mouth and cradle her jaw with one hand, meeting him with equal interest. Felicity kissed him, breathed in the scent of mint on his breath, so very different than the last time she kissed someone. Roy's hands were smaller, smoother than Oliver's, and he held her like she was something fragile and precious, and it was…

Nice.

It wasn't earth shattering, or pole reversing, or mind-jellying the way she knew it could be. It was just nice and sweet. But nice was okay, wasn't it? For something that wasn't really anything at all, sweet and nice were both good things.

A sudden loud thud from the front porch had the two of them springing apart, Roy moving cautiously toward the door before Felicity could even blink.

"Roy, be careful." she called quietly, reaching for the phone in the pocket of her hoodie while she tried to swallow her heart out of her throat.

He didn't respond, just inched closer and closer to the door, hand extended forward like he was bracing for it to explode inward. When it didn't budge, Roy reached for the handle and pulled.

It was silent in the apartment for all of a beat, the total lack of sound almost oppressive. But then Roy's voice went so tight Felicity thought he was going to strain something, a single word strangling itself out of his throat.

"Oliver?!"

He didn't know what he was thinking heading straight for her apartment. It made absolutely zero sense, but his body carried him in her direction before his brain could think about what it was doing. All Oliver knew was that Felicity felt like safety, like home, and there was nowhere else in the world he could go with a bullet wound splitting his cheek, stretched diagonally from right beneath where his mask ended and back into his hairline, the length and width of a magic marker. His skin was burned raw around the edges of the wound, blistering from one end to the other, and he was never more grateful to Barry for making sure he wore a mask.

There was blood dripping in a constant trickle down Oliver's face, turning the front of his leathers into what closely resembled an oil slick. He skidded to stop in front of Felicity's apartment, not bothering to throw down the kickstand before he stumbled toward her porch. He tripped on the bottom step, landing hard on his elbows and grunting with pain, the sound of his bolts clinking together in his quiver making his head pound and his stomach roil.

After a moment spent collecting himself, Oliver hauled himself upright and staggered the rest of the way up Felicity's porch steps. He didn't hear anything inside but the light was on, so he peered in through the window to see if maybe she'd fallen asleep on the couch.

The breath was sucked out of his lungs when he caught sight of Felicity. She was definitely on the couch, but she absolutely was not sleeping. Oliver's stomach rolled again, his lunch threatening to make a reappearance. Felicity, his Felicity, was just inside, Roy's lips fused to hers like they belonged, like they had any right to be there.

Another wave of nausea assaulted him, making his head spin. Something deep inside Oliver's chest cracked, so painfully that he actually had to look down at his sternum to make sure he hadn't been shot again. His body trembled like a leaf in a hurricane, his skin breaking out in cold, clammy sweat as his vision swam before his eyes. Heat poured through Oliver like molten lead, unpleasant in all possible ways. His breath lodged somewhere in his throat, couldn't make its way past the sheer volume of everything surging through him at that moment.

Memory after memory slammed through Oliver, enough force behind them to drop him to his knees with a sound like a whip crack. His kneecaps would be bruised for weeks, but the only thing Oliver could feel was the pain of thirty years' worth of emotions tearing into him at once, cutting through flesh and sinew, straight down to bone—deep into his soul.

His father's death. Tommy, his mother, Sara… Hundreds more. Everything, from the tiniest emotion to the most devastating blows, they flooded his system, overwhelming him to the point of blacking out. Fighting to stay conscious, Oliver clung to the windowsill, sagging under the weight of everything pressing him down, into the darkness.

A flash of sunlight blasted inside his head, threatened to split his skull clean in half. A kaleidoscope of colors exploding behind his eyelids made Oliver clutch at his head, the spiral of color topped off with a flash of magenta lips and aqua eyes.

Oh, God.

Felicity.

The joy written in every line of her body when he walked back into the lair. The shock when he pushed her away. Confusion and agony haunting her expression when he told her he didn't love her anymore, actual fear when he'd grabbed her, bruised her wrist…

The sight of her kissing Roy.

The promised repeat performance of Oliver's lunch chose that moment to make its debut, and Oliver succumbed to the blissful pull of unconsciousness.