Thank you all so much for your amazing feedback. You are just awesome! Sadly, I feel like I have to apologize for this chapter. I rewrote it quite a few times, but I'm still not really happy. I know that my dislike for a certain character is part of the problem. I know I exaggerated certain character traits that I find annoying, but I hope you can still bear me driving my point home. I would still like to hear what you think. Constructive criticism is very welcome.

Thanks again for reading and sticking with this story, it means so much to me!

(6)

It had been late when Oliver had returned home. But for once he didn't come home from a fight, but from burger and beer with Diggle and Felicity–and Carly. Diggle had invited them, wanting them all to be together. He was so relieved and happy, he felt like the avenging of his brother called for a celebration. Carly had no idea what they were really celebrating, but she hadn't exactly asked. She just seemed happy that Diggle finally was at ease. He had even kissed Carly in front of the others, which he had never done before. Oliver had just accepted that tonight was a day off and had tried to be in the moment and good company, but his thoughts had always wandered back to the lair where the search program was still trying to identify the man from the opera security tape.

And his thoughts had stayed there after he had returned home. He had tossed and turned in bed for hours, even though, he was utterly exhausted. It had been dawn when he had finally fallen asleep, and when he had opened his eyes again, the room was brightly lit. A glance at the clock told him that it was nearly noon. The fact that it was so late already startled Oliver. Pre-island Oliver may have rarely been up earlier, mostly sleeping even longer, but this hadn't happened to him in years. In a hurry he got up, took a quick shower and got dressed.

Not fifteen minutes later he hurried down the stairs toward the hall, where Thea stood, greeting him with a smirk on her face. "Good morning, sleepyhead," she teased. "Did you have an exciting Saturday night?"

"Oh, yes," Oliver answered, "You know my life, always filled with excitement."

The grin stayed on Thea's face. "Was Felicity the cause of it?"

"Thea," he stopped close to his sister, "Felicity is just a friend."

"A good-looking friend. The press is head over heels with the mysterious blond who won over Oliver Queen." She fake pouted, "They printed her picture even bigger than mine."

"But, Thea," Oliver mocked, "size doesn't matter."

The grin on his sister's face grew, and Oliver cursed himself for saying such a sentence, such a Felicity-sentence. He must be spending too much time with her lately. Before Thea could comment on his stupid comment, he continued talking, "I have to hurry, I'm meeting Laurel for lunch."

"Laurel?" Thea frowned. "But what about Felicity?"

"I told you: We're just friends."

"Yes, but she makes you smile. I saw you smile at least three times at something she said. That must be a record since you came back."

Oliver frowned, "I smile."

Thea looked at him sternly–and Oliver realized that he really was not in the mood for this. "I have to go."

"Yes, go to Felicity. She makes you smile. Laurel only makes you frown. And that creates the ugly kind of wrinkles!"

Oliver ignored her, "Bye, Speedy!" He wasn't 100 % sure, but he thought he heard her say "Bye, stupid" before he closed the door.

Oliver was nervous. His hands were clammy. He sat at the table in this restaurants that critiques and hipsters praised equally and couldn't help the knot in his stomach. It wasn't a real date, he reminded himself, you didn't date at lunch. It was only a casual meal shared by two friends. Sadly, this exact female friend had filled his fantasies, his thoughts in the last years–while she had only thought badly of him. She was all he longed for–and she had chosen his best friend. This was a messed up situation, to say the least. It was a good reason to get nervous about.

But there was also excitement which left him so unruly. He was excited to finally share a meal with her, with only her. They had rarely been alone and hadn't been able to have a real conversation.

Finally, he saw her heading toward his table. She looked beautiful, her dark hair flowed around her face as the sun cast highlights into her locks. It was a slow-motion moment happening in real-time. He could have never imagined this as he had lain on the cold floor in the wreck of a crashed plane. Reality most definitely topped his fantasy.

He rose from his seat and greeted her with a smile and a polite kiss on the cheek. It was a harmless, a friendly touch, but it meant a lot to Oliver. The fact that such a strong reaction to a weak touch was slightly pitiful wasn't lost on him.

"Ollie," Laurel said, sitting down. "I'm sorry, I'm a little late."

"No worries," he said, forcing a smile. She looked tense, so he added, "Did anything happen?"

"I'm working on a really important case. An old couple is in danger of losing their home." She took the menu from the waiter, who had positioned right next to their table. "It's heartbreaking. I need to do something about it, I'm the only one who can help them."

Oliver looked at the girl opposite to him and couldn't help but ask himself, if that was how he sounded to Diggle and Felicity. A cold jolt of shock hit him as he suddenly realized what he had just thought. Trying to cover it, he took the other menu from the waiter and seconded Laurel's order of soda. She had already opened the menu and was studying the listed dishes when Oliver said the only thing he could think of, "I'm sure you'll figure this out."

"Well," she glanced up at him shortly, "I'm working on that. There are two ways I could go with this, but I'm still not sure yet which one is better." She let the menu sink and finally really looked at him, making it seem like she had only just really noticed him fully, "I'm very sorry, Ollie, I only have 30 minutes. I need to get back to work and save this people's home."

He tried another smile, "Of course. I understand."

They chose their dishes in silence, and when the waiter served their non-alcoholic drinks they quickly ordered. When they were finally alone again. Laurel took a sip of her soda and focussed on him completely, "I'm glad we finally managed to do this. With Tommy working for his father, we hardly see each other anymore."

Oliver nodded, "That's true." But since he really didn't want Tommy to be part of this conversation, of this non-date, he said, "It's been some time since we last talked. So, apart from work being stressful. How are you?" It was forced, he knew, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I'm good," she answered. "I'm a little confused what happened between you and Tommy, though. I haven't gotten a real answer out of Tommy why he suddenly went to work for his father."

And there they were, right back at the topic Oliver had tried to steer her away from. She really didn't seem to sense that he didn't want to talk about that. "He thought it was better for him," he answered vaguely. Seeing her doubtful face, he added, "Maybe, I didn't pay enough attention to the club as he would have liked."

Laurel studied Oliver intensely while she said, "I guess business and friendship don't mix."

He felt uneasy under her searching gaze, feeling like she was detecting all his lies and taking him apart with her eyes. But he kept his mask up, "I guess not."

She took another sip of her soda. "I don't blame you," she stated then. "It makes sense that taking care of business isn't on top of your list. You have many things to cope with. I'm sure it's not easy to adjust after being away for such a long time."

Now he reached for his glass and took a huge sip. He didn't know what to say to that. Because, really, that was another thing he didn't want to talk about. He had planned to keep this conversation light, but her mentioning Tommy, his disappearance and his way of dealing with the years away added immense weight and was dragging the mood, his mood, down. He swallowed heavily and finally said, "It's just good to be back. I have so much to catch up on." Desperate for a more up-beat topic, he added, "Like, it's hard to understand that Rihanna is still a thing. I believed we'd only have to deal with 'Umbrella' and then we would be done..."

Laurel tried a small smile, but it didn't really reach her eyes. "It's okay, I get it."

"Get what?"

"You don't have to act brave with me. I know the last months weren't easy for you."

Oliver could feel the tension inside him grow. "They weren't," he admitted, "but I don't want to dwell on that."

"Ollie," she used her soft, understanding voice now, "You need to talk about it. You can't just ignore what happened. Did you ever think about seeking professional help?"

"No."

"There," she sat up straighter. "You are annoyed. That's what I'm talking about. You need a healthy way to deal with that, a way to let your frustrations out."

He was pretty sure that she wouldn't approve of how he let his frustrations out. She most likely wouldn't approve them as healthy. "I train," was all he said.

She shook her head, her voice was still soft. "You focus on your body too much. You need to also take care of your mind. You had unpleasant experiences on the island, you need to deal with that or they'll break you."

He stared at her. He couldn't believe that she had just said that. Unpleasant experiences?! He really didn't think this was an adequate choice of words. Actually, it was a stupid thing to say. It was a stupid thing to say by her, when she was one of the very, very few people who had really gotten a glimpse of what had happened on the island. She knew he had been tortured. She had sat next to him when her father had interrogated him about this, when the detective had mentioned that scars on his body. She had looked shaken, and somehow her compassion had soothed him. But in this situation, when he was just trying to spent a nice, easy meal with her, her try to analyze and patronize him caused anger to grow inside him. He was angry that she said that. He was angry that all he could think that this was an incredibly stupid thing to say. He was angry that he was annoyed by Laurel, the love of his life.

His voice sounded strained as he couldn't hide his anger, even though he really tried. "I'll manage." He had been really good at hiding his real emotions from Laurel in the last months, but right now he knew he failed at keeping up his routine of staying calm, collected and positive around her.

Laurel reached over the table and placed her hand over his clenched fist, "I'm always here to talk."

Not ten minutes earlier he had longed for a touch, he had longed for her to touch him, but now that it happened he couldn't stand it. Because it was a touch full of pity. Maybe that was all he could get, would get from her.

The waiter chose this moment to serve their meals and saved Oliver from having to react to her statement. He had just reached for his fork when Laurel's cell rang. "I'm sorry," she apologized as she answered the call.

Before she had even said the first word, Oliver knew she wouldn't finish her meal. Normally, it was him running out of meals and conversations, it was unfamiliar to be the one being left behind. But he really didn't mind it. He would rather finish his meal alone and in silence than continue this aggravating conversation. This was really not how he had imagined this date... meeting... to go. A strange mixture of sadness and anger collected inside him.

He forced a fake smile, when Laurel ended the call. "Ollie, I'm sor–"

He didn't let her finish, "It's okay. I understand." He made eye-contact with the waiter while lifting his hand, indicating that he wanted the check. He had decided to not finish his meal either, because he just wasn't hungry anymore.

Laurel's beautiful eyes met his, "I really mean what I said. I'm always here for you. I only want the best for you."

When Oliver watched her leave after an awkward good-bye he couldn't help but think that all she wanted was what she believed to be best for him. She would never accept what he knew was the best thing he could do for himself. She would never accept that he was The Hood. He sighed, and the waiter returned with his credit-card. The tall man with the bold spot looked with uneasiness at Oliver and the untouched food, "Sir, I'm very sorry. If you weren't completely satisfied–"

Oliver stopped him right there. "Don't worry. The food was the smallest of our problems."