AUTHOR'S NOTES: Um spoilers to 3x06 I guess. I wrote the basic outline of this series and large portions of the story over the summer and with being so busy at work I haven't had time to add in what's happened on the show. So, in this world the Digglet hasn't been born yet. I wanted to add in the Sara stuff, because I think it adds to the angst, but I'm not sure it really works here. In fact, I'm not sure how I feel about this section at all, but figured it was about time I posted something. I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

I often thought that you'd be better off left alone

Why throw a circle round a man with broken bones?

But darling when I see you, I see me

~"I See You, You See Me" by The Magic Numbers

They move around each other cautiously these days, two people well aware that any sudden movement might hurt the other. It's not in his nature to be so indirect, but he doesn't have much choice. Felicity seems to be the one setting the pace.

He knows it's his fault. He keeps pushing things, saying things that make her build higher walls around herself. He just can't help it sometimes; words have a way of falling from his lips when he's around her. Now that he's told her, it's like he wants to tell her all the time, wants her to know and to forgive him and to understand, but she refuses to absolve him.

They have an uneasy alliance, built on shifting sands where she purposefully ignores the way he looks at her and he purposefully ignores the way she hasn't told him how she feels. He thought he knew. He thought he'd always known. But her silence makes him wonder.

It doesn't matter. He needs to find a way for them to move forward, a way to start patching over the cracks that are spreading through their partnership, but he can't think of any gesture he can make that will fix this. He ends up buying her a donut. It's stupid, but it's pink with sprinkles and he needs to get her something to congratulate her on her promotion anyway. Besides, right now a donut is really all he can afford.

She smiles brightly when he places it in front of her. "Congratulations," he says, taking in the way she fits behind his old desk. He'd never felt comfortable there, but she looks like she belongs.

She raises an eyebrow at him, "You bring any coffee to go with that?"

His shoulders lift in tandem with the corners of his mouth, "I didn't want to step on Jimmy's toes."

"It's Gerry," she corrects him lightly. "And I never ask him to bring me coffee. Wouldn't want to be a hypocrite, you know."

They smile at each other over the private joke and it feels familiar and strange all at the same time. They're different people than they were the last time they stood in this office and the totality of the change makes his chest hurt. Flashes of the times they'd spent there before he'd ruined everything assault him. Late night conversations over take out, her smiling encouragingly across the conference table as he'd start meetings he had no business leading, and hours spent going over financial reports neither of them had much interest in. Long before Isabel had made her move, he'd wondered why the board hadn't taken the company away from him, but it seems clear now. It had been Felicity that had kept his head above water, Felicity who had kept him in his position.

He'd brought her up there to make his job as the Arrow easier, but she'd ended up taking care of both sides of his life. He hadn't thought about anything more than convenience when he'd dragged her up those eighteen stories, but he'd made her a target as soon as they were publicly linked. And months later, after he understood what he'd done, he found that he was unable to send her away- not that she would have let him. His eyes dart around the room and land on the windows. Last fall they'd gone flying out one of them, but if they were in the same position today, he's not sure he would be so reckless with her life. He shakes his head, it might not matter what he would do. If something were to come at them now, would she still reach for him? Would she follow him so blindly?

Gerry's voice buzzes in through the intercom. "Mr Palmer wants to see you in his office, Ms. Smoak."

Felicity grimaces. "Ms. Smoak, " she says uncomfortably. "That's weird, right? He's like, two months younger than me." She rises from her chair and grabs the donut, taking a big bite and smiling. "Mmmm, so good," she murmurs around a mouthful. "Thanks."

She steps out from behind the desk and he blinks, fighting to keep his eyes from admiring the way her purple dress hugs the curves of her body. He wonders if this is how it was for her back at the start, when he was always hanging shirtless from the ceiling and she was always trying desperately not to stare. He'd toyed with her then, enjoying the way her cheeks would flush, enjoying that someone out there liked the way he looked, that someone could see his scars and not remember that they hadn't always been there. He wears shirts when he's working out in the foundry now, as if that's the way to keep her at arm's length, but her outfits have become more revealing. All these little flashes of her stomach and back, all these little cut outs and cropped tops, it's like she's daring him to touch her. He can't imagine she's playing with him purposefully though; the stakes are just too high.

As soon as she moves past him, he gives up the struggle and turns, watching her openly, drinking in the flare of her hips as she walks to the door. Her hair is down instead of up and he wonders if it means something. It's a ridiculous thing to consider, but he can't help reading into everything she does these days.

She stops at the door and turns back to him as she takes another greedy bite. "See you tonight?" she asks, chewing gracelessly for a second before licking a smudge of frosting from her thumb. He does his best to ignore the way his pulse jumps.

"Yes," he nods. "We'll pick you up at seven." They've got an undercover mission at a business dinner. A few months ago he'd have been excited to have her by his side all night, but now it feels nerve-wracking, like he's going to spend hours maneuvering through a minefield.

She nods and he's walking out behind her towards the elevator when Ray Palmer comes flying around the corner. Felicity hides the remains of the donut behind her back and swallows hard as he skids to a halt. Something about the way her free hand rises up to meet the other man's chest as he collides with her doesn't sit right with Oliver.

"I was coming up," she laughs, a smile spreading across her face as she shakes her head.

"I thought it might have been rude, calling for you like that, especially if you were busy when I wasn't. I meant to ask Gerry. But I was thinking about those airborne turbines. You're right, no one wants them hovering over their homes and filling their yards with dead birds, I get that now, I promise. But if we put them off the coast then there aren't any yards."

"Yeah, but there's the water," Felicity says, her hand patting his chest lightly. "Thousands of birds would still be slaughtered. And I'm pretty sure the tourism board would have something to say about the shore line being littered with bird parts."

Ray starts to speak and then stops, his mouth snapping shut as he thinks. "Maybe further out to sea?"

Felicity shakes her head as her hand finally falls away. "The turbines have to go higher but the technology isn't there, yet. It's a good idea and my team is on it, but for now, well, do you really want it raining feathers?"

Ray smiles at her softly and then shakes his head no. "And you thought you weren't worth spending 1.2 billion dollars on."

Felicity laughs. "I always thought I was worth spending 1.2 billion dollars on. You were just really creepy about it."

Ray smiles and then peeks over her shoulder. "What's behind your back?"

Felicity blushes. "Oh, nothing," she says letting her hand fall to her side. "A donut."

Ray stares at her hand, "Why would you hide a-"

Oliver coughs lightly and Ray's question dies on his lips as he turns to stare at him. His brown eyes widen as if he hadn't even noticed Oliver was there and he steps back and extends his hand in welcome. Oliver takes it absentmindedly, his focus on Felicity who keeps smiling up at Ray as if Oliver's presence is irrelevant.

Oliver doesn't like that at all.

The dinner is tense. Felicity looks beautiful, but she's quiet and not at all happy that they're there. When they finally sneak off to find the mark's private office she isn't shy about letting Oliver know she thinks this is a huge waste of their time.

They aren't even in the office long enough to boot up the target's computer before Digg's voice crackles in their ears. Their absence from the dining room has been noted and the mark is making his way towards them. They're about to get caught, which means they need to make it look like there's another reason they've snuck off to a private room in the middle of a dinner party.

They've been in this position before, it's nothing new really, because these things happen in their line of work. You don't break into so many private offices, or server rooms, and not ever need a cover story. They've developed a sort of routine for when they're caught- a routine that involves some roaming hands and neck nuzzling, but does not involve him actually kissing her. Or grabbing her face in his hands and telling her he loves her, which is the impulse he feels now, standing next to her and watching as she worries her lower lip between her teeth. He runs his hand over the back of his neck and rubs lightly. They really need to come up with a new contingency plan.

Digg's voice is sharp in his ear and urgent with warning. "He's definitely heading your way. Felicity's right, this guy doesn't miss anything. He noticed the moment you two walked out."

"Where is he now, Digg?" Oliver asks.

"Turning down the hall, you don't have time to get out of there."

Oliver doesn't wait. His hands fly to her waist and he moves her to the wall in an instant, a small thrill running up his spine from the way she gasps. Her eyes are huge and sad and the rush he feels at having her in his arms again scares him. He hasn't been this close to her since the night of their ill-fated date, since he held her face in his hands and Felicity broke his heart by taking one step back.

He shakes the memory off before leaning forward, his nose sliding against her neck. Her perfume is crisp and floral, and he takes a moment to appreciate the lightness of it, the sweetness that matches her perfectly. His eyes close and he tries to squelch down the desire that bursts through him when she shivers at the feel of his breath on her neck. God, he wants to kiss her again. The last few weeks have been agony and he knows, deep down inside, that everything he said that night was a mistake. If he could go back and do things differently, he would. His hand flexes at her waist and he's drawing it up the side of her body when she suddenly pushes him away.

Felicity's voice is loud in the quiet room. "No."

He stumbles back in confusion as he hears the door open. She's looking at him like she's never seen him before, her mouth opening and closing and then opening again as she shakes her head and words start pouring out. Her hands fly out in front of her and he doesn't really understand what's going on, or why she's this upset. He hasn't done anything differently. It's the same thing they always do.

She's really yelling at him now though, calling him a jerk and saying he needs to be more considerate, but he stops focusing on her words because it's suddenly clear that she's not fully focused on them either. Her eyes keep darting over his right shoulder to the door that is now fully open behind him.

Pieces of a mystery he hadn't realized he'd been trying to solve fall into place. She's not upset that he pressed her against the wall. No, she's upset that the mark had been about to walk in. And not just any mark either- Ray Palmer. Felicity doesn't want the man to see them like that.

Her cheeks are flaming red and her hands are shaking so badly that she fists them against her sides. "It's not my fault that you lost your company," she says, running out of steam. She looks ashamed and his heart feels like it's being twisted in his chest. "You could at least pretend to be happy that I still have a job."

"I… I am happy for you?"

"You've got a funny way of showing it!"

His mouth falls open to refute her statement, but then he shuts it. Maybe he's seeing something that isn't really there. Palmer is her boss. It makes sense that she wouldn't want him to see her in some sort of compromising position. The two of them going off somewhere to fight in private covers up what they were doing just as well as a secret tryst would. It was a smart plan, really. "Felicity, I'm sorry."

"What's going on?" Parlmer finally interrupts, walking in and crossing quickly to Felicity's side. He looks down at her, his brows drawn together, the worry clear on his face as he places one hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" Oliver doesn't miss the way her shoulders relax under the other man's touch.

"I'm fine," Felicity says, turning towards their host and crossing her arms over her chest. "I apologize if we've disturbed your other guests."

"No, no. I'm the one who's sorry," Palmer begins. "I should have knocked. I saw you walk out and didn't know if you had decided to leave or if you'd gotten lost. I didn't realize the two of you needed a moment alone."

Felicity's head flies up. "Oh! No-no, we don't need to be alone," she babbles nervously. "Oliver and I aren't alone type people. We're exhibitionist people. Not sexually! I mean, I like to be by myself- not by myself! With a partner but somewhere private... like an office. But not this office! Because that's not what was happening. Oliver and I have never had sex."

"Felicity!" Oliver barks. Why is she acting so flustered? She's blushing, blushing the way he hasn't seen her do in a long time and the blood pounding in Oliver's veins is so loud he's surprised that no one else can hear it.

Ray's mouth twitches into a full blown smile and Felicity's hands fly up to cover her face as she wonders aloud why anyone lets her speak at all ever. She counts down from three and when she finally drops her hands from her cheeks she looks so charming and beautiful that it physically takes Oliver's breath away. Unfortunately, he's not the only one it has an affect on.

Palmer's thumb sweeps lightly over her collarbone and Oliver takes a step towards them, wanting to knock it away, before he catches himself. He has no right to say or do anything, but still. He needs Palmer to stop touching her. "Our apologies, Ray," he says through gritted teeth. "We just needed to talk for a second."

Palmer nods before turning to face him, "I know things have been tense between us, Oliver, but I don't want you to be angry with Felicity. Her skills are too valuable for me to not take advantage of. She's doing great work- work that I think honors your family's legacy of excellence. She's a tribute to the company."

Oliver swallows and nods. "Yes, absolutely. I'm not angry with Felicity at all, we just had a miscommunication. I apologize for any disturbance we might have caused."

It doesn't matter that he's apologizing though, because neither Palmer or Felicity are even listening to him. She's gazing up at the other man and he's gazing down and Oliver has no idea when this all could have possibly happened.

They look ridiculous together. Palmer's entirely too tall for Felicity.

Palmer's hand slides down to her lower back and he leads her over to the door. "I'm going to get Felicity something to drink," he calls over his shoulder. "Why don't you take a few minutes to get yourself together, Oliver."

Oliver nods and watches as Felicity's hands clasp behind her back, a flash drive slipping from her fingers and falling onto the expensive rug before they walk out.

Oliver closes the door before scooping up the device and slotting it into the terminal.

Diggle's voice in his ear is hesitant and low. "You okay, man?"

Oliver shakes his head as if his partner can see him, but doesn't say a word.

It's been three months since he and Felicity went on that date. It's been a month since she told him and Digg that she enjoyed working with Ray Palmer, that she respected him. That she liked him. Oliver hadn't thought anything of it. Clearly he'd misread the situation.

An hour later, Digg ushers Felicity and Oliver into the car. No one says a word the entire ride back to her townhouse. When they pull up Digg climbs out and tells them to stay put. "I'll just take a quick sweep before you go in."

The silence between them is uneasy as they watch their friend go to the door and then disappear inside. Felicity's hand slides onto the door handle. "I'm sorry I said those things," she says, eyes fixed out the window. "I didn't mean them."

"So why did you say them?"

Felicity pauses before answering softly. "Ray is pretty much the only person that doesn't think you made me your assistant because we were sleeping together. I don't want him to think he was wrong in handing Applied Sciences over to me."

He looks over at her sadly and shakes his head "You don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying." She takes a breath. "But I like him and his opinion matters to me," she says, her voice shaky as she exhales the words. "He's smart, and he's funny, and he's a good boss. He has big plans for the company. The things he wants to do, they're exciting. It's everything I dreamed about doing when I was in school."

"Sounds great. Too bad he spent so much time last year with Isabel."

"He was interested in buying the company Oliver, that's all their meetings were about. I know you want QC back, but I don't think we're going to find out he was involved with her and Slade in anything sinister."

Digg walks back out to the car and opens the door for her. Oliver nods sharply and places the flash drive into her hand. "I guess we'll find out."

She takes it and then slips out of the car, walking away without once looking back.

Digg drops Oliver at the secondary lair facility so he can be alone, but Oliver's body is buzzing with something and he can't settle down. He can't sit in that box tonight, caged in on all sides. He feels too big for the space, as if his head might hit the ceiling if he stands up without thinking.

He goes out instead. Goes out the way he used to, when Tommy was at his side and Laurel was patiently waiting at home.

He drinks.

And for the first time in a long, long time he feels nothing. No pain, no anxiety, no happiness either, just numb and it feels good, it feels incredible, to not feel anything at all. He takes a long pull on his beer and suddenly understands Laurel in a way that he hasn't before, in a way that makes him feel small for how he treated her in a hallway almost a year before. He hadn't known then, what really loving someone was like. What not being able to be with the person you wanted more than anything could do to your insides.

And just like that it suddenly dawns on him. Tommy was the love of Laurel's life. Tommy. Not him, not Oliver Queen. It's like a light bulb going off in his head.

He laughs bitterly as he swallows one of the shots he's got lined up on the bar in front of him, because how had he not realized that sooner? For some reason he'd placed the two of them on equal footing for her, but that was just ego. Laurel hadn't been in love with him for a long time. Her heart was Tommy's and not shared in the slightest with the boy Oliver had once been. He must have known that on a certain level before, but now it's like he knows. He and Laurel don't owe each other anything.

And with that understanding a weight lifts off him, because he doesn't have to feel so much guilt about her anymore. She's not his soul mate or his destiny or any of the other things the tabloids used to describe her as. It was okay that he spent five years dreaming of coming home to her only to not actually come home to her. He can't believe it took him so long to realize she hadn't been waiting for him all this time.

He needs to apologize to Laurel, apologize for the way he's behaved since the moment he met her. Apologize for standing in the way of her happiness and for wasting her time. He needs her to forgive him, really forgive him, because she hasn't honestly done that yet and he wants to be her friend- no he needs to be her friend again. She was important, still so much a part of him, and if he didn't fix things soon he would lose her. Tommy wouldn't want that. Neither would Sara. He swears to himself that he'll find a way to make everything up to her as he knocks a mouthful of tequila back into his throat.

Someone bumps into his back and he falls forward on his stool, knocking his beer bottle onto the bar. He scoops it up and finishes the dregs with one pull before nodding at the bartender for another. She smiles at him, all dark hair and red lips, looking him over in a way he wishes someone else with blonder hair would. It would be easy, he knows, to take this woman home tonight, fun too most likely, but instead he turns away. The bar is loud and there's a pulse of something thrumming through the crowd that he's not sure he recognizes. These people are rougher than the throngs that show up at Verdant, less willing to be looked at, less willing to show off. It's not the kind of place he's really used to. It's not a bar he'd have come to before, back when he was a billionaire with the world at his feet. It's rougher and he's getting stares because no matter what else he seems to lose, the fame always sticks.

There's a guy at the end of the bar that's just blatantly staring. He's big and he's eyeing Oliver in a way that says he wants to fight but Oliver doesn't know why. It could be anything, it could be alcohol, it could be because the Queens wrecked so many lives, or it could be that Oliver slept with his girlfriend once upon a time. He doesn't know and it doesn't matter. His body is bursting with the need to hit something, to lash out and the guy looks like he could actually take a beating. Or give one.

Oliver stands, a drunken plan forming in his head as he moves, logic left so far behind that his brain is basically sleeping. When he walks past the guy he purposefully stumbles and falls. His arm flies out and he takes the guy down with him. Felicity is going to be so pissed.

The bar lights up in an instant. Fists and bottles come at him and, Jesus Christ, he's missed this. The recklessness of not caring, the freedom from responsibility, the not having to explain to anyone why he needed this pain. The guy splits his lip and Oliver smiles, the blood rushing over his teeth and into his mouth. He drops his hands down, not protecting himself, letting the beating come, welcoming the impact. He can take this. It's nothing. This guy has no idea how much pain he's endured.

Bones are still bones though, and when he feels a rib crack he springs into action. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can hear sirens, but in the front of his mind all he hears is the crowd urging them on.

He throws one perfect punch and the guy goes down to the ground in a heap. Oliver breathes deep, waiting, never giving up the hunt, but the guy is knocked out. Oliver comes embarrassingly close to throwing both of his arms over his head and spinning around in victory, but settles instead for pivoting around on his heels. He scans the crowd, looking to see if there's someone, anyone who'll dare try and take him.

No one moves. The crowd watches him silently.

He takes a step towards the door, thinking it's done, not realizing that they guy he'd been fighting had friends. He's so drunk he doesn't notice the footfalls of the man that hits him from behind with the bar stool.

When Oliver comes to, Lance is standing over him.

"I'd have thought these calls were beneath you now, Captain," he says, mouth dry and head aching.

"And miss out on arresting you one more time? How could I resist?" He hauls Oliver to his feet and shoves him out a door.

The night air feels good when he steps out, cool and clean on Oliver's skin, drying the blood on his lip and calming him as it breezes by him gently. He looks for the paparazzi, thinking someone inside must have called TMZ by now, but Lance has taken them out the back. The alleyway is empty and the Captain's police issue town car blocks the way in.

"Should I call Miss Smoak?" Lance asks.

Oliver turns a little too fast and shakes his head. "No. Just take me to the station. I'll call a lawyer from there."

Lance looks him up and down with a wry grin. "I'm not arresting you, Queen. That other guy's got a record that makes you look like a saint. He's not pressing charges and, surprise, surprise, no one in there remembers seeing anything. Looks like your luck just doesn't run out."

Oliver nods and then coughs, blood spraying lightly from his mouth and Lance crosses to him, a hand flying onto his shoulder. "You okay?"

Oliver pauses and then collapses forward, hands on his knees as he draws a deep breath. That rib might be broken. He sinks to the ground, his back resting against the brick exterior of the bar and says nothing. He has no idea how to answer Lance's question. His head starts spinning wildly from the alcohol. He can't remember the last time he even had one drink, let alone ten.

Lance walks to his car and comes back with a bottle of water. "Here."

Oliver takes it gratefully. "Thank you."

"You know kid, you're a real shit," Lance says, leaning back against the wall. "I knew it the first time I met you and, you were what? Thirteen? You'd gotten Laurel in trouble, had her drinking vodka out of your locker at school and I thought, Jesus, here we go. The teenage years begin." He sinks down next to Oliver. "Christ, if I'd known then what I know now I would have shot you."

Oliver rinses his mouth out with some water and spits to the side. "You'd have been right to." He leans his head back against the wall and breathes deep, trying to keep the world from moving all around him.

"Damn right I would have been," Lance says, tilting his head. "The thing is, nowadays you seem to be doing better. You're leaving both my daughters alone, which I appreciate, and you're working hard. It doesn't make up for the past, but it helps to keep me from wanting to punch you in the face whenever I see you."

Oliver exhales sharply, pain from Lance's words running though him. They owe this man honesty, but Sara's death isn't his secret to tell. "Is there a point to all this?"

Lance sighs. "It's been a long time since I've seen you in this condition and you know, Miss Smoak is a good person. I like her. And she seems to like you. So I want to believe that you're not doing to her what you did to Laurel."

Oliver feels his cheeks flushing, but it's not from the alcohol. "It's not like that between us. We're not together."

"Really?" Lance frowns. "She's not with that other guy then, is she?"

"What other guy?"

"The one who took over your company You know, the douche bag."

"You mean Ray Palmer?"

"Yeah, I was at lunch with Laurel on Wednesday and they stopped by our table to say hello. He picked up our tab, which was obnoxious if you ask me. I didn't like the way he was looking at her."

"At Laurel?"

"No, at Miss Smoak."

Oliver's head drops forward, his chin tucking into his chest. "She doesn't seem to mind."

"Well, you should do something about that then. And if you're not man enough to do that, at least tell her to be careful. Something's wrong with him. Call it a father's instinct."

Oliver laughs, "You realize you're saying you'd rather see her with me, right?" Lance goes quiet and Oliver shakes his head. He should get up and go, but it's not like he can drive himself home. Maybe he'll call Digg.

Lance clears his throat. "Look, I get it. I spent a long time after that boat went down pushing people away. I buried myself at work and when that didn't work, I buried myself in a bottle. When I climbed out I'd lost my wife and I'd almost lost Laurel. I got a second chance when Sara came home." Lance stops for a second and tries to catch Oliver's eye, but he looks away, afraid that Lance will see everything. Lance sighs and shakes his head lightly. "Look, you'll never be my favorite person, but you're not the guy who used to send Laurel home crying at two o'clock in the morning anymore. I can see that. You got a second chance when you came home too. Do something with it.

"I'm trying."

Lance stands up, glancing around the alley hesitantly. He pauses for a moment before speaking. "I'm not talking about dressing up in leather and trying to save the city, kid."

Oliver's head shoots up and bangs back against the brick wall. He lifts a hand to rub at the spot. "I don't know what you're talking about Captain. I can't save my family's company, let alone the city."

Lance laughs lightly. "You really think I don't know? Hell, I suspected the first week you were back. And then you were dating Sara again but she was also running around holding the vigilante's hand. I think I can put two and two together."

Oliver rubs his eyes roughly. This night really can't get any worse. The weight of Sara's death presses down on him and twists at his insides. He hasn't let himself grieve for her and he can't let himself start now. He'll mourn her once they've found justice. His hand drops down and he tries to ignore the nagging voice in his head that tells him there is no justice for a loss like this.

"Look, you don't need to confirm it. It's better I have some plausible deniability here anyway. But what's the point in doing all of this if you don't have anything to show for it. Miss Smoak is a good woman. Even if your past was squeaky clean you wouldn't be good enough for her. So why not just thank your lucky stars that she sees the best in you and move on from there?"

'It's not that simple."

"It never is. But life is too short to not be with the people you love. So long as they're not related to me." He holds a hand out for Oliver and helps him up. "Christ you weigh a ton." When Oliver is settled on his feet, Lance claps a hand around his shoulder. "You need a ride home?"

Oliver nods. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

Lance shrugs. "This doesn't mean I forgive you. If you come near my girls again, I really will shoot you this time."

Oliver grimaces as he climbs into the car. In the future, when the extent of what he and Laurel have hidden from her father is revealed, this alliance will be over. Another wave of grief threatens to overtake him as he realizes how much more he's going to lose before this all ends He puts on a fake smile and turns to face the man he's grown so much to admire. "Trust me, Captain. You'll have my permission."