If loving her is heartache for me

And if holding her means that I have to bleed

Then I am the martyr and love is to blame

She is the healing and I am the pain

She lives in a daydream where I don't belong

She is the sunlight and the sun is gone

It used to happen all the time. Hearing her voice and seeing her face in strangers. The first time it happened, he had grabbed the woman and had very nearly gotten a kick in the groin. His skin was buzzing and his heart beating out of his chest. His breath came in short, shallow bursts as he tried to calm his racing heart. He had hardly gotten a look at her, speeding past him with barely a pause, but her voice … her voice was Felicity. There's a slight tremble in his hands and he shakes his head to clear this thoughts. Get yourself together, Queen.

A knock at his office door greets him moments after he walks in. "Yes?"

Janet greets him with a smile, "Good morning, Mr. Queen. Here's your morning mail and a package that was delivered for you. You have a light schedule today. Two appointments this morning, lunch with Mr. Diggle and your evening is free."

"Good morning, Janet. Thank you."

He turns his attention to the rather large package wrapped in brown paper. There's an envelope taped to the outside, which he removes and sets aside. The paper comes off easily revealing a very pretty painting of the Starling City Skyline, the sun rising over the skyline actually, basking the city in a warm glow. It's quite breathtaking. He sets the painting aside and opens the note.

Dear Mr. Queen,

Hello, my name is Jane and I've been told that you're the reason I'm in this beautiful city. Saying thank you just doesn't seem like it's enough. So please, accept this as my personal token of appreciation. It's not much, but it's from the heart, which is what matters, right? I hope it reminds you that your generosity was a ray of light during a very dark time.

Yours thankfully,

Jane Doe.

He smiles at the note, recalling her file. Woman found near death in Metropolis Harbor, memory loss with a penchant for art. There weren't many details, no pictures or charts, but he felt drawn to her somehow. He knew what it was like to be lost and how desperate you can be to find a lifeline, someone who knows you, someone who cares.

He waves when he sees Diggle sitting at a small outside table at Big Belly Burger. Dig smiles in return, standing up to greet him with a hug.

"Hey, how are you doing? Adjusting well to being back in the city?" Dig asks concerned.

"Yeah," Oliver says, taking a seat at the small table. "Things are good. How's Lyla and Sara?"

"They're wonderful. Sara's growing up so fast. She misses her uncle though. You should come by for dinner soon so she can see you."

Oliver smiles at the thought of his little Diglet, her shy smile and her plump little hands grabbing at the presents he bought for her…

"Hi Uncle Ollie, I missed you. I love you. What cha get me?"

After he left the city, Dig and Lyla had started their own security firm, making it one of the most sought after security details in the country. He was really glad to see them doing well and so happy. They order their meal and reminisce casually of their days in the field together.

"Do you ever think of picking it back up? The suit, I mean?" Dig asks.

Oliver shakes his head slowly. "I don't know how to do it without her, John."

He hangs the painting in the bedroom, opposite the bed. The light from the sunset streams through the window, hitting it and making the colors dance. He sits on the edge of the bed, pulling a worn leather journal and pen out from the nightstand. He opens to a blank page letting his thoughts flow to paper.

Felicity,

I thought I saw you today. It's been a while since that's happened. It's strange being back in the city without you. Your hairbrush is still on the bathroom counter and your perfume still on the dresser. Sometimes, I wake up still expecting to hear your soft little snore and your sweet laugh as you press your cold feet into my thighs. God, I miss you. Where are you, love? Why can't I find you?

The familiar tightening in his chest causes his breath to hitch and a small sob escapes the back of his throat. He closes his eyes wishing for a sleep that he knows won't come. His mind will not quiet, all he can see is her. Sitting in their bed, her shoulder hanging out of one of his t shirts, hair piled on her head while chewing on a pen with her lap top on a pillow and papers strewn everywhere. Her, barefoot on her tiptoes reaching for a mug in their kitchen. Her, lying with him; limbs tangled, tracing her fingers along his tattoos and scars. She wanted to hear the story behind each and every one, sealing each story with a kiss on the mark. He longs for more; more moments. He longs for the peace he felt in her arms.

She's not sure why, but her heart is racing, her skin tingling, and blood rushes through her ears. The feeling can only be described … thrilling. When she's sure the bus has passed, she tries to look back to see if she can still see him. She cannot, but notices that she's holding her breath. She lets it out swiftly and laughs at insanity of the pull that she is feeling towards him; a pull that is making her want to get off the bus this instant and run straight back to him.

"What is wrong with you, Jane? Stop it right now," she thinks to herself.

She vaguely remembers reading that he was married, but there was something else; something about her being missing. She'd only glanced at the headline and hadn't read the article. She didn't recall seeing a picture of her, but then again she'd only looked at the first picture that had popped up of him. She shakes her head and grabs her bag as the bus pulls into SCU, trying to force the image of Oliver Queen from her mind.

She doesn't know how it happened. One minute she's holding her friend Kate's hand while she's getting a butterfly tattoo and the next she's in the chair herself, grimacing as the needle stabs into the soft flesh of her rib cage under her left breast.

"Haven't done one of these in a while," the artist said. "Not since the Green Arrow disappeared. People were getting arrow tattoos left and right before then," he laughs.

She stands before a mirror looking at the finished work, smiling softly at the small delicate design. She doesn't know what compelled her to do it, but loves the result. It's comforting somehow, this arrow pointing towards her heart.

Her body arches into his as he feasts on her neck. A soft moan escapes her lips at the friction caused by her nipples grazing his bare chest. She lifts her hips to his, silently begging him to close the space. He rubs himself against her core and they both gasp into each other's lips, their breath mingling before he pulls her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking gently. Her tongue traces the edges of his upper lip before finding his and getting lost in the sensation. His fingers interlock with hers as he brings her arms above her head. He enters her slowly and holds there for a moment, his eyes locked onto hers. Her feet skirt up his thighs and her heels dig into his ass trying to somehow push him deeper into her.

"Please," she whispers.

He moves then, setting a slow and steady rhythm, his tongue trailing along her breast before taking her nipple into his mouth.

Her breath hitches and he moans into her skin. He begins to move faster and she can feel the tension in her building. He whispers word of love into her neck as her fingers card through his short hair.

"Come for me," he breathes.

And she does, the waves of her climax hit her and she trembles beneath him. A few more thrusts and he follows her, collapsing against her before he rolls on his back taking her with him. Her body is pulled into him and she traces the outline of his face with her fingers willing him to come into focus.

She loves him, this man whose face she can't see. She loves him so much that she wishes she could just stay here always. Live in this dream forever with him.

"I love you," she breathes pressing her lips to his chest.

She can feel him look down at her as his fingers trace soft patterns on her back.

"I love you too, Felicity."

Her eyes snap to his when she hears the name. She pushes back on her elbows and gasps. She can see the confusion in his eyes, the square of his jaw and the light stubble across it. She can see the gentle slant of his nose and the curve of his lips. For the first time in three years, she can see him … and she knows his face.

She wakes with a start, gasping for breath and her hands reaching for him. Tears cloud her vision and her heart is racing. His face … Oliver Queen.

A/N I apologize for the delay in getting this posted. The muse has been fickle as of late. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Review are like mana from the gods and feed my muse. Your thoughts would be lovely!