A/N: Thank you to everyone for all your feedback and support, you can't believe how motivating it is :) An extra special thank you to quisinart4 as well for all your help when it came to reviewing this chapter and taking the time to point out various typos :) Any that are still showing are all my fault!

Chapter 3

Pasting a smile on his face, Oliver focused on looking attentive as Laurel discussed the latest case she was working on.

Sometimes he wondered if they ever had anything else to talk about.

Not that he talked much when he was with her; at least about anything of substance.

Occasionally, when he'd been stuck on the island he'd allowed himself to think of the little things he missed most, the things that people took for granted; aside from not having to fight tooth and nail for his life every day. It didn't happen often; sometimes it was simply too painful and other times it was because every ounce of energy and willpower was focused on surviving just one more day.

When he got off the island, he'd promised himself that he'd just sit and listen to Laurel talk. Take comfort in the sound of her voice, the cadence of her tone and the way she formed her words.

Naively he hadn't given much thought as to how he would re-adjust to living in society after his time on the island. He'd been so caught up in planning how he would right his father's wrongs, correct his own wrongs in respect of Sara and make up for lost time that it had never occurred to him that he would spend so much of his life lying to the people he loves. That he would have to hide quite so much of himself away because he's scared of how they would react if they knew the truth.

Even Tommy, the man he'd considered a brother had been horrified at what he'd become.

Thankfully he had Felicity and Diggle, he doesn't know what he would have done without the pair of them.

Time and time again they've helped hold him together when he needed it, kept him on the right path and dealt with the inevitable fall out his actions often cause.

The word friend is insufficient for the both of them; they mean so much more to him than that.

Maybe, he mused as he cut into his steak with a definite knife stroke, that was the problem with himself and Laurel.

They had never been friends.

Even at the very beginning when they'd first met, when he'd been madly in love with her and his feelings had been so crazy that they'd terrified him. Everything had been such a whirlwind of emotions that it seemed they'd bypassed friendship altogether and delved straight into a relationship that hadn't been healthy for either one of them at times.

One that, if he was totally honest with himself, still wasn't healthy.

And yet they kept putting themselves through it.

He doesn't really know why.

Because each time they get back together he hopes that their relationship will provide him with a sense of normalcy as if the island had never happened?

Because he feels that he owes it to Laurel for cheating on her with Sara?

A sense of self-flagellation perhaps for what they had done to Tommy?

The desperation to believe that if they make their relationship work that it would in some way justify their actions?

Laurel might not have been dating Tommy the first time they had slept together after his return from the island; but that didn't absolve them of wrong doing – they'd both known of Tommy's feelings.

He'd urged his best friend to talk to her! To fight for their relationship! And then several hours later he was in bed with her.

Their relationship was dysfunctional and not in any good kind of way that worked. Long hours at work, secrets, his strained relationship with her father, the way he'd treated her in their relationship in the past; all of it conspired against them.

Though he'd never given her any reason to doubt his commitment since they'd re-kindled their relationship after Tommy's death he wasn't blind to the emotional scars he'd caused.

Their sex life had dwindled into obscurity, no fun, no laughter. They spent two, maybe three nights together a week. And if there was any sex, the lights were left off and there was the smallest amount of foreplay possible before they fell into a basic position that allowed them to get off as quickly as possible.

Felicity and Diggle know how unstable his relationship with Laurel was, but neither one of them have the slightest clue as to how bad it really is.

God he misses oral sex.

It was no wonder they were making such progress through the list; he had to have some outlet for his physical energy.

They were both equally to blame; if they really wanted to make things work they'd have both made more of an effort.

His mood hadn't helped over the past few months; that was on him but Laurel has to give him something too. He can't make their relationship work by himself.

He can't help but feel unsettled by the knowledge that his time as The Hood would soon be coming to an end.

There might be the odd outing when it was called for but in general that aspect of his life was soon going to be over.

It had been his mission for such a long time; a huge driving factor in his life for the past eight years and soon it would be finished. When he'd returned to Starling City three years ago and started on his quest he'd imagined that he would be happy knowing that he'd avenged his father's mistakes; instead all he feels is apprehension.

Everything is changing and Oliver knows damn well that he isn't dealing with it particularly well.

Turning his attention back to Laurel, Oliver nodded in agreement to her last comment and picked up the bottle of red wine on their table to top his glass up. He motioned with the bottle first towards Laurel's glass in a silent question but she shook her head.

"No thank you," she said, "I have an early start tomorrow morning."

"Fair enough," Oliver agreed congenially as he finished filling his own glass and placed the wine bottle back in its original spot. "So, what will the next step be then?" He asked referring to the case she had been discussing. Things had been particularly stressed between them recently so it was probably best that he show more interest than he actually felt. He had no doubt however, that they were still on track for the inevitable breakup which was soon due.

As Laurel delved into her thought process regarding the current options available to her client, Oliver discreetly turned his attention to the surrounding dinners.

His head tilted to the side as he caught sight of Bruce Wayne making his way across the restaurant to the table which had been reserved for him, his hand placed on the back of his dinner companion as he guided her along.

Shifting in his seat Oliver attempted to get a look at the woman with Bruce, but the older man's body obscured his view as he pulled out her seat which was unfortunately facing away from him. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair but that was it.

What was Bruce doing in town? Contemplating the question Oliver cast his mind back to see if he was forgetting any pertinent bits of information but as far as he was aware he wasn't.

Bruce wasn't in town looking to do any business with Queen Consolidated and he hadn't heard anything on the grapevine about the CEO flying out to have a meeting with any other corporate business whose headquarters were based out of Starling City.

Nor was Starling City a romantic destination when you were a billionaire.

Presumably in that case, the woman he was with resided here, or had done at some point. But a trip back home to visit family would suggest a somewhat serious relationship…if that was the case someone would have mentioned it or he'd have caught sight of it splashed across the tabloids.

He craned his head trying to catch sight of the blonde woman to find out if he recognised her, something niggled at him that he knew her but he wasn't quite sure.

"Oliver!"

Jolted back the present; Oliver turned his attention back to the brunette in front of him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. Just surprised to see Bruce Wayne here," he explained.

"So you weren't just ignoring me and checking out his date then?" his girlfriend replied acidly.

"No, there's just something familiar about her but I can't place it."

"Probably one of your past conquests," Laurel remarked, "just out of curiosity, were we together or not when you slept her?"

Locking his jaw in place to prevent himself from saying anything that he would later regret, Oliver sat back in his chair and attempted to rein in his temper. What could he say to that? Maybe Laurel was being unfair but at the end of the day it was his past actions that enabled her to make such justifiable comments.

She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry," Laurel apologised contritely. "That's was unfair of me. I'm just stressed, work has been manic, I had an argument with Dad over plans for the 4th of July and when I got back to my car this evening I found out someone had keyed the side of it. Regardless, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. "

"It's ok."

"No it's not. You're supposed to me my boyfriend Oliver, not my verbal punching bag." Twisting her head around, Laurel searched for the couple that Oliver had become fixated on. Blondes weren't typically Oliver's preference but it was easy to see why the woman had caught his attention; her hair was eerily familiar to Felicity's, although Laurel had never seen the other woman with her hair in such a style before.

She opened her mouth to remark that it wasn't likely that Felicity was out for the evening with Bruce Wayne before thinking the better of it. Because no, that would not go down well. Just like he was with Thea, Oliver was startlingly protective of Felicity and fiercely guarded the time he spent with the blonde.

Instead she turned her attention back to the duck confit on her plate and focused on cutting up a couple of green beans.

Much like a spoilt child, she'd learnt the hard way that Oliver did not enjoy sharing Felicity's attention or what he deemed was his time with the blonde unless he was the one to invite someone into the little group. Unless it was Diggle. Diggle always seemed to be welcome, regardless of an invitation.

She was sure that there was something off about Oliver's relationship with the blonde IT girl, but she just couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Although, she thought bitterly, maybe that was just because for the first time she didn't feel worried about the thought of Oliver cheating on her.

Felicity was definitely not that kind of girl.

And unfortunately Oliver doesn't appear to be that kind of man any longer.

She feels disgusted with herself at the thought that sometimes she wishes him cheating on her once again is a possibility. Because then it would give her a legitimate reason to leave and not feel guilty. It would all be on Oliver; she'd given him another chance and he was the one to screw it up.

Tommy wouldn't blame her for not making things work in that instance, would he?

It wasn't as though she was simply walking away because she'd gotten tired of fighting for a relationship that didn't seem to exist anymore.

Swallowing a mouthful of her food, Laurel took a sip of her wine and glanced across at Oliver only to find his attention was still focused on that of his business rival and the man's date.

She could mention something.

In fact several years ago she would have.

But tonight she just can't be bothered.

All she wants to do is finish dinner at a restaurant she suspects neither one of them really wants to be at, get home and take a shower to wash away the day before she falls into bed. Alone.

She's tired. So tired of this rollercoaster of a relationship that neither one of them can seem to get off of.

Even speculating on the possibility of Felicity on a date with Bruce Wayne wouldn't end well.

It's ridiculous really, that she works so hard to maintain some semblance of a relationship with Oliver when she'd allowed Tommy to give up on the idea of them so easily.

She'd let him walk away without a fight and then he died.

There was no second chance like she had with Oliver now. No opportunity to right the wrong. Instead he had died and she is forced to live with the consequences of her actions for the rest of her life.

Maybe Tommy would have still died in The Undertaking even if they were together but Laurel can't help but wonder if she would have found it easier to move on from that possibility than the reality of regrets, unspoken words and apologies she could never seek forgiveness for.

She'd always been so short with him when he'd dropped by at work and interrupted her to flirt and describe some new grandiose plan he'd put together… funnily enough, it was one of the things that she misses the most about him.

Absently Laurel pushed a stray string bean around on her plate before stopping abruptly as she realised what she was doing. Setting the cutlery down on her plate she turned her attention to the other diners in the room and tried to hide the fact that she couldn't think of a single thing to say.

Eventually the silence between them and Oliver's one-sided staring contest was brought to a premature end by the approach of their waiter to check that the food was to their satisfaction. They assure him it is, although Laurel could detect a shadow of doubt lurking behind his well trained facade as he removes her half eaten plate and Oliver's barely touched steak.

Within a moment he is back at their table to present them with the desert menu and a promise to return shortly once they have had a chance to review it.

"Would you excuse me for moment?" Oliver asks as he stands, "I'm just going to pop to the restroom."

Forcing a smile to her face Laurel nodded despite the knowing full well that it was simply a pretence to get a look at the woman sat opposite Bruce Wayne.

Turning on his heel, Oliver casually made his way across the restaurant, weaving in and out of the tables with ease.

He's being silly, Oliver tells himself, absolutely ridiculous. He would know if Felicity was planning an evening out with Bruce Wayne. She would have told him, or Diggle. And then Diggle would have told him.

But something in his gut is telling him different, logic doesn't appear to be winning this particular battle.

But if his gut was right and it was Felicity sat opposite Bruce then what on earth was she doing there?

The older man had similar tastes to his own before the island; style over substance with very little interest in anything else.

Felicity didn't grow up in their world. She isn't the type of woman to attract Bruce's attention. She might be beautiful inside and out, but it isn't the kind of brash beauty that so many of the woman of their acquaintance portray.

She isn't familiar with the manipulative games that are often played for no other reason than boredom.

She isn't someone to be picked up one evening and then discarded the following morning.

She doesn't work like that. In fact, he'd be lying if he said that it wasn't one of the things that attracts him to her so much. She is so genuine. He loves her rambling; she doesn't say one thing while thinking another.

She doesn't try to hide anything from him. She is always honest, even when, sometimes he doesn't want to hear it.

Felicity isn't cut out for one night stands or a weekend fling. She's the real deal, the one that you take home to your parents, the girl you date knowing that at some point, when you're both ready you'll put a ring on her finger. Because as up to date a Felicity is when it comes to technology, as modern as her beliefs regarding equality, there are still some parts of her that are delightfully old fashioned and her views regarding marriage is one of them.

But Bruce is not that kind of man. Instead he'll hurt her, crush her vivacity, damage the way she looks at the world around her which to his amazement is always with such hope despite the things that she has seen in her time working with him.

He won't let Bruce destroy that, not like he himself did with Laurel.

But first things first, he needs to clarify if the mystery woman is actually Felicity. With that in mind, as inconspicuously as possible, Oliver moved across the room as he kept a discreet eye on the couple who had set his alarm bells ringing.

There was just something so familiar about the slender slope of the woman's neck…the gentle curve of her shoulders…the blonde hair made up of so many different honey coloured tones. ..

Just then the woman tilted her head slightly and Oliver caught sight of her profile.

The world seems to freeze around him.

The gentle hum of quiet conversation, the music from the piano, and the concealed swish of the service door leading into the kitchen, all of it fades away as his eye lock onto Felicity…

The sight of her sat there with Wayne of all people…it completely knocks him off-guard.

His chest feels tight and he's vaguely aware of his heart pounding franticly in his chest but he can't tear his attention from the intimate scene in front of him.

He'd thought…

He'd had his suspicions…but to see it actually right there in front of him…

Felicity…his Felicity… with Bruce Wayne!

"Mr Queen? Mr Queen?"

Oliver's head twists to the side so quickly that the movement results in a loud crack of protest from his neck.

There is a waiter standing in front of him, one that he'd been completely unaware of. Such a mistake on the island would have gotten him killed. Instead the young man eyes him with concern as though he's a dangerous wild animal while the look in his eye tells Oliver that the only thing he wants to be doing now is backing away slowly. He can see the man in front of him speaking but can't make sense of it; his mind still trying to process the knowledge that Felicity, his Felicity, is out for dinner with Bruce Wayne. "W-what?" He can't help but ask in confusion forcing the waiter to repeat himself.

"Is everything alright Mr Queen? Would you like me to get someone?"

"I'm fine." He manages to gasp out as he struggles to regain control of the situation. "The bathroom," Oliver announces suddenly as he remembers the excuse he'd made to Laurel. "I appear to have missed the signs."

"Of course Mr Queen. You need to go back the way you came in," the waiter explains as he motions in the opposite direction of where Felicity is sitting with Bruce Wayne. "Turn left and you'll find them on the right hand side down the hall."

"Thank you." Without further ado Oliver spun around, mindlessly following the directions he'd been given.

Bursting into the restroom he was relieved to see that it was empty.

It's the posh kind of restroom, with individual cubicles and a carpeted floor in the main area. Along the back wall there is a marble counter with several sinks set into the smooth black stone behind which a large mirror sits fixed to the wall. There are individual hand towels neatly folded by the sinks, a laundry bin set at the end in which they could be discarded after use.

A couple of antique wooden chairs are placed in the near corner by the door with a small round table set between then on which sits a vase of flowers.

Snatching hold of one of the chairs Oliver tilts it onto its back legs and wedges it beneath the door handle to prevent anyone from disturbing him.

That done he sucks in a lungful of air to try and calm himself down, but the sound of his shaky exhale doesn't help.

His heart is still pounding in his chest and Oliver swears that he can feel his entire body jerk in time with each heartbeat.

Just breathe, he coached himself. Inhale. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Exhale. Just breathe.

Stumbling towards the sinks he catches hold of the edge of the marble counter top and braces his body against the cold stone.

Inhale. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Exhale.

His skin feels hot and clammy; the suit jacket comes off and is carelessly tossed to the floor by his feet. Jerking at collar of his shirt the top button pops off and the motion causes the once elegant knot of his tie to become a tight mass of fabric which is likely going to have to be cut off because it is not going to be easily unpicked.

His hands once again grasp the marble counter and his head dips down to rest against the edge of the icy ceramic sink.

The little food he'd actually eaten sits heavy and uncomfortable in his stomach as though rebelling against his decision to consume it. Bile rises in the back of his throat but Oliver forces it back down through sheer willpower.

Despite his locked knees, his legs still feel unstable but he's going to let the feeling beat him.

The symptoms he's got now, if he didn't know better he'd think he'd been poisoned.

His mind flashes back to the sight of Felicity sat opposite Wayne. Smiling at him. Leaning forward in encouragement as the man talked. Flirting with him.

She'd worn that dress for Wayne. She'd worn those high heels for him. She'd flawlessly applied her makeup for him. She'd painted her lips a deep shade of seductive red for him. She'd deliberately chosen to encourage that man's attentions.

Anger burns hot and bright at the knowledge and has him gritting his teeth. His heart rate starts to pick up once and he lashes out with a growl; his foot catching the wooden panelling beneath the sink and causing it to splinter underneath the force of his kick.

He has spent, Oliver thinks, the better part of the evening trying to figure out who she was; his gut screaming at him that the person sitting opposite Wayne wasn't just some random women. He'd known on some subconscious level that it had been Felicity, despite the fact that he hadn't had a clear view of her.

Something inside of him had known the truth that he didn't want to admit. His eyes have been on her constantly throughout the evening ever since she'd entered the restaurant, his digging into the back of her neck and she hadn't turned around once.

Felicity hadn't paid him the slightest bit of attention.

She hadn't demonstrated a single hint of awareness that she knew he was in the same room.

How was it possible that he could be so hypersensitive to her presence and yet she didn't pick up on his own at all?

Instead all of her attention had been focused on Bruce Wayne and his smarmy manners. Completely ignorant of the covetous, hungry look in the older man's eye because she is that damn innocent.

Because she doesn't think for a moment that men look at her and think about more than her brain and IQ level.

There has to be more to this than Wayne suddenly deciding to hop on a plane to Starling City and take Felicity out to dinner Oliver tells himself.

His Gotham counterpart must have made contact with Felicity at some point before today in order for her to agree to go out with him.

What is the man after?

He'd never thought of Wayne as the corporate espionage type but he could be wrong. Before he'd been marooned upon the island their age difference had meant that they'd had very little to do with each other and since he's been back he'd hardly bothered to keep track of the various socialites within his circle of acquaintance unless they were listed within his father's notebook.

Is Wayne trying to squeeze information out of Felicity about Queen Consolidated over the course of a date? Attempting to lure her to Wayne Industries with the promise of a job if she'll spill just a few trade secrets?

He has no doubt that Wayne knows just how close he is to Felicity.

Everybody knows how important Felicity is to him.

Their close relationship and his protective attitude towards her has become somewhat of a standing joke in their circles.

There must be an ulterior motive.

With that in mind Oliver pushes himself up and away from the sink his legs feeling slightly steadier as he decides on his course of action.

It's no good for him to be hidden away in the restroom trying to analyse the scenario to death. He needs to be out there, in the restaurant to he can watch what is going on and be ready to step in when the time calls for it or Felicity demonstrates the smallest hint of unease at the situation she's managed to embroil herself in.

He and Felicity are going to have a very serious talk about her choice of dates after they have all made it through the evening.

Twisting the cold water tap on, Oliver lets it run for a moment before dipping his hands under the running water in order to splash some on his face. It's cold and refreshing on his skin and helps settle his racing mind. He needs to be collected and rational about this.

Felicity is going to be hurt enough when she discovers that Wayne has been toying with her. She doesn't need him overreacting on top of all that. He needs to be there for her, he'll deal with his own feelings in due course.

Switching off the tap, Oliver blots himself dry with one of the hand towels and tosses it in the designated laundry basket.

The face staring back at him in the mirror is pale, with a set jaw and hard eyes that contain a dangerous barely controlled rage. There are a few damp splotches of water splattered across his shirt Oliver observed in a somewhat detached manner, but no one is likely to say anything he thinks while reaching up to yank his tie back into a centre position. There wasn't a damn thing he could do about the state of the knot.

Bruce Wayne, he vowed to himself, would learn first-hand just what happened when someone tries to get to him through Felicity.

Sweeping up his suit jacket from the floor Oliver pulled it back on as he stalked across the restroom to remove the chair from where he'd wedged it against the door and placed it haphazardly next to its partner.

Just in time, Oliver thought to himself as another patron of the restaurant entered through the door.

Leaving the bathroom he strode down the hallway towards the dining area catching sight of his waiter en-route.

Catching the other man's eye Oliver paused and motioned for him to come over. "Tally up my bill," he instructed while handing over his credit card, "along with the one belonging to Mr Wayne's table. There was also a small incident in the restroom, make sure you take the card details and charge the damages to me."

The waiter barely had time to confirm his agreement before Oliver brushed past him with a remark over his shoulder stating that he would be at his table.

Navigating his way back to his table Oliver makes sure to keep his eyes fastened on Felicity and watched her dinner partner with an eagle eye.

"Where have you been?" Laurel exclaimed as Oliver sat back down across from her. "I was beginning to think that you had gone off and left me here!"

Without bothering to glance at his girlfriend, Oliver responded with a grunt of acknowledgement while pensively drumming his fingers on the table.

"A grunt isn't an answer Oliver! You left me sitting here for nearly fifteen minutes!" Laurel hissed at him between gritted teeth. This was not the place for a public argument but he couldn't honestly expect to disappear off for quarter of an hour and not offer an excuse. She wasn't ignorant to the state of his clothing either, something had happened.

The approach of their waiter stalled her next comment and she waited until the small silver tray holding the bill and Oliver's credit card was deposited on the table and the waiter was moving away from them before speaking again.

"Oliver!" Growing extremely frustrated with the way her boyfriend was deliberately ignoring her to stare in the direction of Bruce Wayne once again, Laurel twisted round in her seat once again.

Felicity.

Well that certainly explained Oliver's preoccupation.

Not that it was any excuse for his behaviour.

"Are you going to refuse to look at me now as well as speak to me?" Laurel spat out. Whatever she was about to next though was brought to an abrupt stop as Oliver's eyes cut across to her. Glacial blue eyes held her gaze for a long moment before they were turned back in the direction of Felicity without their owner saying a word.

She likes to think that she isn't easily intimidated; you can't be, in her line of work but there was something about the look in Oliver's eyes that sets her on edge.

Not for the first time she wonders who the man that returned to her from the island really is.

She hasn't been ignorant to the fact that Oliver conceals a lot from her. Rather idiotically, she thinks now, is that she had been under the impression that his mask was in relation to the PTSD he suffered from; an attempt to down play the traumatic aspects of what he'd been through as a defence against morbid curiosity.

But it's with a chilling realisation that the rose tinted glasses are ripped away from her face as she'd forced to confront the reality of what Oliver's blandly charming mask hides from her.

She recognises that look on his face.

She's confronted with it each time she is required to visit Iron Heights Prison to visit an inmate.

That look in Oliver's eye, it's the cold and calculating look which some of the most dangerous criminals possessed; institutionalised from the length of time they'd been locked up for. There are times that even with the metal bars separating her from them and the various prison guards milling about she still doesn't feel safe from them.

Sudden movement from Oliver has her jerking back to the present and she watches in silence as he stands to slide his credit card and their bill into his pocket.

A quick glance shows that Felicity is making her way down to the dance floor with Bruce following her close behind.

"We're leaving. Now. Get Diggle." Oliver told her in short, clipped words not even bothering to look in her direction.

Without waiting for a response Oliver walked off in the direction of the table that Felicity had been sitting at with Bruce.

She'd left her clutch bag on the table and underneath it sat the letter which Bruce had handed over during the time he'd been observing the pair of them.

Not bothering to pay any attention to the disapproving looks from the surrounding diners Oliver slid the letter out from beneath Felicity's clutch bag and opened it without ceremony.

Fury rushed through him as he scanned the contents of the document; a covering letter which hinted at previous contact between the two of them initiated by Felicity making a general enquiry relating to any positions his company might have available and accompanied by a draft employment contract which outlined extremely generous terms.

This meeting between the two of them hasn't happened by chance.

Felicity has kept this from him.

She'd deliberately hidden the decision to look for work on the other side of the country when she already has a perfectly good job at Queen Consolidated.

Oliver's aware that he's deliberately fanning the flames of his anger, but it's the only feeling he knows how to deal with at the moment so he's going to hold onto it for all it's worth.

Without a second thought he tore the contract in half and then into quarters before holding it over the naked flame of the tea light candle which had been placed on the centre of the table. Fire quickly eats away at the paper and he tossed the burning remains into Bruce Wayne's empty wine glass without a second thought before turning his attention to the couple who had come to a stop in the middle of the dance floor and watches through narrowed eyes as Bruce's thumb skates along Felicity's lower lip.

Enough is enough.

That man does not have the right to touch her in such a way.

He is putting an end to this right now.

A/N: Ok, so I know it wasn't the confrontation a lot of you were hoping for (that will be coming during the next chapter - I promise!) but I genuinely think that any showdown between Oliver and Felicity isn't going to be anywhere near as interesting if you don't understand what is going on with Oliver...so...I won't lie, I am slightly worried about the reception of this chapter after the amazing feedback from the other two...smiley faces?