One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. Oliver had gone through the motions so many times, he didn't really need to count them off anymore. His body knew the motions to follow. But counting off the blows in his head gave him something to focus on, something besides the events of the last few days. After the conversation with his mother, and nearly losing Sara, again, he needed to be able to lose himself in the motions, like he had so many times on the Island. Otherwise, he was afraid his anger might get the better of him.

The sound of high heels making their way down the staircase didn't exactly surprise him, but he hadn't been sure she'd come. Diggle would know better, he wouldn't show until tomorrow, and he'd show his support by offering to spar. But he couldn't often be so sure about Felicity. Sometimes, she gave him space to figure things out before coming around, and sometimes, she refused to budge. He kind of liked that about her, because at least her unpredictability didn't make him want to hit things-usually, anyway.

He continued to strike as she finished making her way down the stairs. He paid no mind to her as she crossed the floor, moving toward her usual perch in front of the computer bank. He kept his eyes on the target, as he'd been taught. Still he was able to track her movements easily enough. When she sat down, she didn't turn to begin clicking away at the keyboard. Instead, she stayed facing him, watching him.

Felicity was sure she'd find him here. She so often did. Part of her had been hesitant to come, knowing that after a particularly trying day, Oliver liked to have his space to center himself. But a small part of her was still afraid of what Moira had said. She needed to make sure that things were okay between them. She needed to know that he was okay.

And physically, he looked fine, despite his fight with Nyssa. She watched from the corner of her eye as she crossed the room. She kept her eyes trained on him as she sat. She counted the strikes. When she was sure he was doing a simple count, and not one of the more complex forms, she broke the silence. "You're angry."

Oliver continued hammering at the wooden dummy, it didn't require much focus. "No, I'm not."

Felicity rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Oliver, I've spent a lot of time down here watching you work out. I know your routines. If all you want to do is work out, you lift things, or yourself. When you're frustrated, you use the ladder. When you feel like you failed, you practice your aim. And when you're mad, you beat at things until there's blood, usually yours."

Oliver stopped mid-count and looked over at her. He didn't realize she paid that much attention to his methods down here. She wasn't entirely wrong about how he chose his challenges. Lifting things was easy- for warming up. The ladder was something that required attention and shooting needed focus and presented a victory. But when he was mad, he didn't want to worry about aim, or falling on his ass. He just wanted to put all his effort into making his anger productive, expelling what he could on something he couldn't hurt, so that he didn't lose control and hit something he could. He acknowledged her point, but did not cede victory. "I'm not angry with you."

Felicity nodded. "But you are angry."

Oliver heaved a sigh. Over the past couple of days, Felicity had been tearing herself apart over what she knew. He'd seen it, but hadn't wanted to force her to talk. He knew she would in her own time. And he knew now why it had been so stressful for her. He figured he might not want to talk, but she might need him to. For her, he could do that. He moved around the table and hopped up, taking a seat on the shiny metal surface, facing her, only a few feet separating them.

"When I was on the Island, I spent a lot of time thinking about getting back here, about the things I'd want to do if I ever managed to get home. Little things, like eating ice cream with Laurel, watching movies with Thea, sharing a bottle of scotch with Tommy, going to one of my mother's fundraisers, simply to see her smile when I showed up. They seemed so inconsequential before, but on the Island, they were all I wanted."

She'd heard him speak of the Island often enough now, that it didn't always bring tears to her eyes, but she could feel her throat begin to tighten. "Now you're home."

He nodded, "And now I'm home. I thought, that first day in the hospital, that things would get easier. The more time I spent in civilization, I wouldn't forget what happened on the Island, but I'd be able to remember how I lived before it. But instead of getting back to the life I had before the Island, I seem to keep getting further away. Tommy's gone. Laurel and I can barely be in the same room, and now that Sara's back, she'll probably want to see me even less. And Thea…When I wasn't thinking about Laurel on the Island, and making things right with her, I was usually thinking about my little sister. My stupid, perfect baby sister who only ever wanted to hang out with me and Tommy, and be a part of our games. Who would cover for me when I forgot to get my mother a birthday card, who took the blame for spilling wine on my father's favorite tie, who would wake up early on the weekends to make sure I had made it to bed the night before instead of passing out on the couch, so my parents wouldn't yell at me."

Oliver took a deep breath, it seems being shot by his mother was not the most painful wound she could inflict on him. "I thought about Laurel a lot on the Island, but when I wanted to give up, when I truly thought I couldn't take anymore. I thought about Thea. And I knew I couldn't give up, because she would want me to come home."

It had always been obvious how much Oliver cared for his baby sister, but Felicity said it out loud anyway. "You love her."

Oliver wiped a hand down his face, nodding again. "Yeah, I do." His face grew sad. "And no matter how badly I want to be the Olly she remembers, I can't. I want her to be happy, but I feel like all I can do is lie to her, about the Island, about being the Arrow, about Roy." Then his face hardened. "As if that's not enough, my mother's made our very relationship a lie."

Felicity shook her head, "She's still your sister."

"I wonder if she'll still feel that way when she finds out." Oliver stared ahead; eyes locked on a distant future, afraid there might come a day when Thea hated him.

"Are you going to tell her?" Her voice was quiet. She hadn't considered coming clean to the younger Queen.

Oliver let out a mirthless chuckle. "And destroy what little semblance of family she has left?" He shook his head.

Unsure, Felicity scooted closer, "So, what now?"

Oliver brought his gaze back to her, "Now? I do what I've always done. I protect her. I protect her from Malcolm's legacy, and my mother's lies. And I remind her that she's my little sister, no matter what, and that I will do anything for her."

Felicity gave a small smile, amazed by just how far Oliver would be willing to go to spare Thea heart break. And once again she wonders if, perhaps, she shouldn't have done the same with him. "Oliver, I can't help but feel like this is kind of my fault, like maybe I should have kept my big mouth closed."

He didn't even bother with words; the look he gave her was enough. "That's never been your strong suit, Felicity."

His joke helped to eliminate some of her guilt, but not all of it. "I could have tried."

"I wouldn't have appreciated it. As it is, you kept it to yourself for too long. You've been miserable all week." He looked at her with concern in his eyes. She'd been so upset when she finally confessed to him before his speech, he hadn't even considered being angry for not coming clean sooner. He still couldn't manage it.

"I didn't want to hurt you." She locked eyes with him, hoping he understood how true that was. In the short time she'd known Oliver, she'd seen him in way too much pain- physical and emotional. She never wanted to be the cause for more of it. "And I really didn't want to lose you."

At the pain in her voice, Oliver hopped off his perch and knelt in front of her, invading her space and holding her gaze. "Don't. Don't worry about hurting me, and don't worry about losing me. You can't do either." He reached forward and took hold of both her shoulders, keeping her focused on him alone. "When I climbed into your backseat last year, bleeding, I knew that I could trust you to protect me. I go out every night, relying on you alone to guide me. I trust you, Felicity, with my secret and with my life. As long as you're willing to stand at my side, I will stand at yours. Being a part of this team, it means that sometimes, we have to say things the others don't want to hear, because we have a responsibility to keeping them alive. But the other part of being on this team, is remembering that when we hear something we don't like."

"Your mother said you'd hate me." The words were weak; Felicity could feel tears in her eyes again.

Oliver silently added another strike against his mother, "She doesn't get what you mean to me." Oliver stood, pulling Felicity to her feet as well. "For future reference, so you never have to put yourself through this again, I want to know. Whatever it is, no matter how bad, or potentially hurtful, I never want you to carry that burden alone."

The tears began to fall as Felicity let out a watery laugh, "Have you ever heard the phrase 'be careful what you wish for'?"

Oliver used a thumb to wipe away a few tears. "Sure, but I know from experience that life is easier to face when you aren't trying to do it alone. I told you before, I don't think I can do this without you. I don't expect you to try doing it without me."

Felicity nodded, and when Oliver opened his arms ever so slightly, she took the invitation and wrapped her own arms around him in a hug. She was sorry that her revelation had caused Oliver more pain, but so relieved to know that he didn't hold it against her. Since becoming part of Team Arrow, she finally felt like she belonged somewhere. She liked knowing that if she ever needed someone, Diggle and Oliver would both be there, for whatever the reason. She'd been forced to face the possibility of losing Oliver's friendship, and she never wanted that pain to come to realization. It was comforting to know that Oliver felt the same.

Oliver gave Felicity a squeeze, reassuring her that he felt no hostility toward her. And he didn't. She'd done nothing more than her job, the very thing he asked her to do every time he went on a mission, find the truth. She had no control over what that truth might be. The anger he'd been letting out on the dummy was directed solely at Moira Queen. Not for the first time since returning from the Island, he wondered how much of whom he was now was a product of his exile there, and how much was simply in his blood.