Summary/Author's note: One shot. This is where my imagination took me based on a line of dialogue tweeted by the producers [SPOILER] "I don't want to be a woman you love." I'm guessing it belongs to Felicity once Oliver returns (because, of course he is not staying "dead"). Oliver returns and once more tells Felicity he loves her. Felicity is not happy. Angst but I won't leave you hanging. I do happy endings.

Every Shade of Blue

"I love you."

Oliver reached for her hand, but she pulled away from his grasp.

"Don't…don't say that," Felicity softly begged, backing away.

Oliver moved toward her, but stopped when she held up her hand. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other while his hands twitched and contracted at his sides.

"Me," he paused, shaking his head, "not saying it…it doesn't change anything. I love you." He dropped those three words again; from his lips they fell as naturally as the air exhaling from his lungs.

Words weren't enough. Her temper spiked even as her chin refused to stop quivering.

"I don't want to be a woman you love. You died." Her voice cracked during her accusation.

Oliver ignored the palm she still held up in the air; he stepped forward and clasped his hand around her wrist, reaching at the same time for the arm hanging at her side. Holding her gaze, he slid his palms up to cup her elbows, his calloused thumbs lightly scraping small circles on the sensitive inner skin. His gentle touch stole away her will to keep him at a distance, but she kept the hands she now found resting on his chest balled into fists even as he drifted closer, sliding his knee next to hers. She closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to the hair on the crown of her head.

"I never wanted you to go through that," he murmured. "I'm so sorry." Heat from his breath slithered against her scalp making her shiver. How much easier would it be if she could stay in his arms and let everything go! But that solved nothing.

She shook her head, blinking back tears. "You don't understand. The whole time when you were dead, I was so angry and it wasn't that I was angry you were dead." Even before Oliver pulled back to see her face, she winced.

"Which isn't to say I was happy you were dead, although happy isn't automatically the opposite of mad, I mean usually it goes happy/sad and the opposite of mad I suppose is normal or maybe indifferent but I was never indifferent, numb at the best of times and then everything would come back and I mean, of course I was angry you were dead, but I'm not talking about that…,"

"Felicity." He said her name, gently squeezing her arms, bringing her back to herself.

She pressed her lips together and took two deliberate breaths through her nose - in and then out, in and then out - reclaiming her control. She flattened her hands against his shirt, moistened her dry lips and then lifted her eyes to his. This was too important to get lost in word babble. She made herself speak slowly.

"I always knew that even a routine mission could go horridly wrong. I thought I'd accepted the risks but it was after Sara died when I really understood. I was furious because when you died, I suddenly realized you left me with nothing."

The muscles in his jaw flexed and his lips pursed harder together but he didn't try to refute her newest accusation. More bubbled up.

"Do you know," Felicity asked, "how many nights I cried myself to sleep, trying to imagine you there to hold me while I slept? I couldn't though, because you never did. Do you have any idea how much you took from me? From us? "

Guilt pulled at his forehead and deepened the lines around his mouth. He looked away, starring blindly over her shoulder, "I failed you. I thought I had a shot; everything, what mattered most, seemed clear. I thought I had a chance at winning and just coming home."

"You still don't get it." She briefly closed her eyes, trying to hold back the new tears pooling in her eyes. They slipped past anyway. She pulled the glasses from her face and wiped her eyes with a swipe of her knuckles.

"It wasn't your death that's been killing me, it's your refusal to live when we had the chance. Two months Oliver. Between the date that never was and you leaving to fight Ra's." Still holding her glasses in one hand, she twisted her fists in the material of his shirt. "Do you know how many moments and memories I could have saved up in two months?"

Stunned to silence, he just stared at her. Felicity drew in a deep shuddering breath. She needed to make him understand.

"That time should have belonged to us. It should have been mine. Then I wouldn't have had to rack my mind to recall the exact texture of your hair from a few stolen times when you were hurt and unconscious. Or be afraid I'd forget the scent of your skin or have to dream of what your kisses taste like without being chased by tears. I should have automatically had burned into my brain the feel of your skin, scar tissue and all, pressed to mine. I needed the chance and time to memorize every shade of every fleck of blue in your eyes and I deserved to hear I love you without my world falling down around me."

"Felicity, I…,"

She interrupted, shaking her head.

"Actually, I would have been better off without your love because at least then I would have still had you near me. You didn't just take away our future; you robbed me of the present," she told him, tears freely sliding down her cheeks. "I would have had at least two more months to store up the seemingly casual touches to my shoulders and arms and the occasional brush of your fingers against mine. Two more months of glances my way when you thought I wasn't looking and how many more of those special, rare smiles could I have collected in two months?"

"God, Oliver, do you know how good it felt anytime I got to see you smile - and to sometimes be the reason why? I'd have tripped over my tongue a million times over if it guaranteed at least seeing that light reach your eyes even when your mouth refused to move."

"They were all yours."

"What?"

"Every smile. Until you, none felt real."

"Oh god, what am I going to do with you? Why do you have to say things like that? I can't…I can't do this again. I can't be the woman you love if you won't let me love you. I…," her face crumpled and a sob tore through her quickly followed by another. Oliver pulled her against his chest and banded his arms around her when she would have pulled away.

"I've got you, I have you," he murmured against her ear and none of the reasons why she was trying to get away made sense anymore. Glasses still in one hand, she pressed her face against his shoulder and wept, letting all the relief of his return and the regrets, grief, and frustration of his loss mix together. He ran a hand down her ponytail, repeatedly threading the strands through his fingers.

"We'll figure this out," he promised. With every breath Oliver took, she felt silent shudders running through his body to match the loud ones wracking hers. Her heart twisted at his pain and she wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as tightly as he held her.

"I don't care who you think you need to be or what name you go by; Oliver Queen, the Arrow, the weird guy with a green leather fetish - it's all still you and if I'm a distraction then too bad. You can't tell me this is somehow easier." She tipped her head back to see his face. "I'm not letting you go again, do you understand?" She felt his arms tighten around her just a little bit more and then suddenly, the tension left his body.

She didn't stop him when he cradled the back of her head in his hands and then slowly bent and brushed his lips against hers, soft presses to learn the texture and shape of her mouth that savored and shared the building heat. Pulling back just enough for faces to come into focus; he caressed her cheek with the back of his thumb and nodded. The corner of his mouth twitched and then hitched up in to a real smile, one that pulled his heart into his eyes. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes but these tasted different. His kisses this time weren't a desperate clutch at what was slipping away or solemn goodbye. This time they were a gentle promise for what was still to come.

"Yeah," he whispered, still smiling. "I understand."