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End notes contain spoilers.

The morning after they took down a huge shipment of RPGs, Oliver walked towards Verdant with a spring in his step. He could hardly believe it had been almost five months since they'd taken care of Slade and neutralised the Mirakuru threat in one go.

Felicity had ended up only spending a few weeks at the mansion – she'd said she needed her own place to recharge, and he'd agreed. It had been slightly weird to come down for breakfast to find the three women closest to him already there. He wasn't a particular fan of how the conversation sometimes stopped abruptly as soon as he entered the room. Plus, even when her wound was better, and his knee stopped being a ball of agony, they couldn't have sex at the mansion, in his bedroom. He remembered Felicity being particularly inhibited.

"It's just – I know this place is huge, and your mom can't hear anything, but it just gives me a weird feeling, you know?" She'd been looking at him earnestly, and he was forced to agree.

Maybe it was time he found his own place – he was going to be thirty soon. He had the money. There was another reason he felt he needed to move out of the mansion, though. Not just his sex life. Something else.

It had been on Oliver's mind for a few weeks. He woke up thinking about it, and it was the last thing on his mind before he went to sleep. He'd made plans. He'd checked that Felicity was free, and had booked dinner at Luigi's, after making sure their kitchen was equipped to handle a life-threatening nut allergy.

Felicity'd looked at him curiously, and maybe he'd given something away with his careful preparations. Maybe he should have just asked her there and then, in the foundry. He'd pictured it: he'd get down on one knee, and give her the ring that was burning a hole in his pocket. Then he heard the locks open, and Roy came trooping down the stairs, and the moment passed.

Roy now had his own suit, and they'd been through months of training with his own bow, until he was at least competent with it. Oliver hadn't tried the water-slapping technique, though. The kid was too jittery for that sort of thing. He was fine at the bow without Shado's training, and he was useful in a fight. The parkour was a bit excessive though. Oliver shrugged mentally as he opened the door to the club. Everyone had their own style.

"Thea?" His voice echoed in the empty room, and Oliver frowned.

He was pretty sure he'd seen her car parked outside, so he'd expected her to be doing inventory, or other paperwork, but she wasn't there. Felicity hadn't been at QC when he'd passed by, and in fact, the Mini Cooper was parked around the corner. What were they all doing here? He looked at his phone, but there were no missed calls, so it couldn't have been some emergency.

When Oliver opened the door to the foundry, he listened to the sounds coming from below with some disbelief. He came down the stairs slowly, and couldn't believe his eyes. Roy and Thea were sparring, and had been training for a while, it looked like. Diggle was there too, and Felicity . . . they'd taken over a second mat, and he was showing her some kicks. As Oliver watched, mouth gaping, Diggle instructed Felicity to hold her position, and then he raised her leg higher.

"This way you won't hit his ribcage, which is hard to get through – you'll smash his jaw instead!" Diggle sounded like he'd enjoy watching such a thing.

"Whose jaw?" Felicity asked, a certain satisfaction in her tone.

"Anyone who messes with you, girl."

Diggle spotted him, and when Felicity saw his face, her own expression turned guilty. Then defensive, and she crossed her arms.

"You didn't want to train me!" He flashed back to a number of arguments about the issue, most of them after Slade had sliced into her side.

"I didn't want you to get hurt!" Oliver winced. Was that too patronising?

"That makes no sense, Ollie." Thea just sounded smug.

He glared to his left, where his kid sister had moved from sparring to – ugh. He did not need to see that. Diggle spotted her and Roy at the same time.

"We have a rule, and you know that. So stop it."

Rather sulkily, Thea disengaged from her boyfriend, who looked at Oliver sheepishly, mouthing 'sorry'. Oliver waved it off.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask who else was there – if he went around the corner, would he find his mom using the heavy bag? Or sparring with Laurel? No, that was ridiculous – his mom was in her new office at City Hall, and Laurel was preparing for Sebastian Blood's trial.

Instead of making any sarcastic remarks, which wasn't one of his skills, anyway, he grabbed Felicity's hand, and squeezed it.

"It's ok." Shit, now it sounded like she needed his approval. "I'm sorry."

Something occurred to him. How come Diggle was here? Lyla was due any day now. He looked at Diggle, opening his mouth to ask, but John was ahead of him.

"She told me I was hovering, and to go blow off some steam. She'd call me when it was time, or whenever she wanted ice cream." Digg shrugged, trying to convey the sentiment of 'women, right?', without actually saying it.

Oliver smiled, and Felicity wound her arms round his neck.

"So, are we still on for tonight?" When he nodded, she continued. "Hey. You never told me what the occasion was."

He tried not to look shifty. "Do we need an occasion to go out on a date?"

Felicity gave him a knowing look – she always knew when he was trying to hide something. Then she let it go, and when Diggle's back was turned, planted a long, lingering kiss on his lips, adding a look that promised him much more besides. He wished his sweater was longer in front, and she moved away with a smirk. He spent the afternoon working out, and trying not to wince at the thought of Felicity sparring with Diggle. Though if there ever was a man who could pull his punches, that was the one.

When the newly promoted Captain Lance called about dealing with stragglers from the gang responsible for the arms shipments, Oliver offered to go on his own. Diggle was going home, and Thea had roped Roy in to go shopping with her. Oliver ignored Roy's pleading eyes, and told them to have a good time, it'd be fine.

So Oliver suited up and took down the lone gunrunner with suspicious ease. Though it didn't seem suspicious at the time. He told himself that they couldn't all be criminal masterminds plotting to take over the city.

When he arrived at Luigi's, and changed his clothes, stashing the bag with the Arrow suit and his bow in the dumbwaiter, Felicity was already waiting for him. She got up and he froze – she looked so beautiful with her hair down, wearing an amazing red dress which he was sure he'd never seen before – he wanted nothing more than to sweep her off her feet and find a bed. Or a wall. He swallowed, feeling for the ring again and crushed her to him, kissing her more gently than he actually wanted to. She smiled back, putting a hand on his chest. He decided to keep things light, for now.

"I hope you're hungry," he started, and then couldn't hold back a chuckle when she nodded vigorously.

"Starving! Really really hungry – I told myself not to eat so I'd still have an appetite tonight, but then I miscalculated, and – are you laughing at me?"

"No, of course not! Please, go on." His lips twitched, though.

The maitre d' came around to ask for their drinks orders. Even though he wanted to order champagne, that would make Felicity really suspicious. So he ordered the red wine he knew she loved. She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, obviously suspecting something, but she didn't comment. He was about to ask her how training with Diggle had gone, when he realised the low-level whistle he'd been hearing came from outside the restaurant, and was approaching fast. He'd just managed to cover Felicity with his body when the world exploded.

The ringing in his ears woke him. It was difficult to remember where he was, what he'd been doing. He opened his eyes to a half ruined chandelier hanging above him, and it came to him – dinner. With Felicity. The panic spurred him upright, and he looked frantically around.

He spotted her immediately. Her eyes were closed. There was blood on her face. She wasn't moving. Was she breathing? He crawled towards her, and through a fog of terror, managed to check her pulse. It was there, and it was strong, but he had to get her out of there – he could check for concussion at the foundry.

Afterwards, Oliver could never remember how he even got to Verdant.

He put her on the examining table, and the rest of the evening was like a nightmare: arguing with Diggle, holding Felicity once she woke up, trying to make sense of what was going on. Because this was his mess. Her face was covered in blood, she could have died, and this was on him. No matter what the others tried to tell him to the contrary – he'd fucked up. He'd let someone put a tracker on him, and he'd nearly killed her. The thought wouldn't leave his head. She almost died, because of him. What had he been thinking? He was supposed to protect her, to keep her safe. He couldn't even do that right. The thought kept repeating in his head, on a loop, and he couldn't shut it off.

She was better off without him.

He tried to explain himself to Diggle, but the man wouldn't listen. Diggle had to take her home after checking her out, because what if they targeted his car next? He knew that didn't make sense, because they'd tagged his Arrow suit, but all he saw was her body lying in the ruins of the restaurant, still and pale. Covered in blood. Oliver ignored Diggle's angry glares. He knew what he was doing.

The next day, Felicity was already in the foundry when he arrived – this time, behind her computer monitor. She rattled out the name and probable location of the one responsible for the attack on the restaurant, and Oliver groaned.

Werner Zytle – also known as yet another Count wannabe. They'd been popping up like mushrooms ever since he'd killed the original. It didn't matter. He would deal with this guy too. He barely spoke to Felicity in the foundry, ignoring her thinning lips and increasingly angry tone. He had to get back the edge he'd lost while he was living his dream of trying to lead a normal life. That kind of thing wasn't for him.

On his way out of the foundry, his mobile rang. Diggle's face appeared on the screen, and Oliver debated not answering it. Coward, he told himself. You owe him that much.

"Felicity told me you found the guy who blew up Luigi's." Diggle didn't waste any time.

Oliver caught Felicity's eye as she stood, arms crossed, glaring at him. This didn't change anything, though.

"I'll deal with him, Diggle. You need to stay out of this." He was going for the cold tone he used to be so good at when he first came back. It had worked then, it should do that now.

"What the hell, Oliver! We're in this together. We're a team, remember?"

Oliver shook his head, even though Diggle couldn't see him.

"You have a family, Dig. Your baby needs you. Lyla needs you. I can deal with this on my own." He hung up without waiting for an answer, and turned towards the alley entrance, only to find Felicity standing in his way.

"Are you going to try to push me away too?" Her voice was full of barely suppressed anger.

"I'm not going to try. We'll talk later." He walked around her without a backward look, conscious of the fact that he was burning his bridges big time – it needed to be done. They'd see that, one day.

He clenched his teeth as he pushed his emotions as far down as he could. They weren't important. What was important was getting this asshole off the streets. He'd done it before, on his own. He'd do it now.

Wrong again, Oliver. Sometimes his inner voice sounded like his father, other times it sounded like Slade Wilson, crowing about the fact that he only managed to fuck up everything he touched. Apparently Zytle had refined the Vertigo formula, and now it offered hallucinations of the subject's greatest fear – which would have been good to know before he'd let himself get stuck with Zytle's darts.

What Zytle didn't know, however, was that Oliver didn't just fear his Bratva Captain alter ego, or at least, what he looked like back then. Oliver hated him. The moment Zytle's angular features dissolved into his own reflection, wearing the business suit and long black coat that had been his uniform back then, Oliver felt nothing but pure rage. Every detail was loathsome to him now – the carefully masked expression, the black gloves, the silenced pistol in his holster. He let go, completely.

All his rage over Felicity's near death, over his own stupid mistake, combined with his hatred for his former self, all that spewed over Zytle in an explosion of kicks and punches designed to maim, and kill. Zytle was no match for him. Just looking like himself in his Bratva days didn't give the man his skills. Not that he had any skills left back then, he thought with contempt. All he'd been able to do was shoot people. Oh yeah, and choke women. Mustn't forget that.

He could hear someone's voice telling him to stop, but he had no intention of stopping. It took Lance a few seconds to drag Oliver off Zytle before he killed him.

"My backup's arrived – you gotta get out of here." Lance looked worried; that much Oliver could tell through the drug fuelled haze that masked his features.

Oliver just managed to stumble out the back before the uniforms came barrelling through the door. He caught the snippet of a conversation before he staggered to the van, glad he hadn't taken the Ducati instead.

"Was that the vigilante? Shouldn't we go after him?" The rookie sounded painfully young and eager. Oliver felt sorry for him. Lance was going to tear him a new one.

"Is there something wrong with your eyesight, rookie? 'Cause I didn't see anyone."

"No sir. I mean, yes sir – I mean-"

Lance took pity on the kid, and Oliver waited for a few seconds before starting the van. Some blocks away, he had to pull over to throw up. That fucking Vertigo.

"Oliver!" The voice in his ear made him jump. "Are you ok?" Felicity sounded worried.

"I'm fine – he just managed to dose me, that's all. He's down now, Lance was there. He got backup."

"And where was your backup?" Felicity transitioned quickly from worried to angry. "What's going on with you, Oliver? Is this about the restaurant?"

That she couldn't see it – that she could just say it so casually. Of course this was about the restaurant. He was toxic. He needed to stay away from her.

"Felicity . . . we need to talk." Immediately after saying it, he cringed.

Seriously, Oliver? This time it came in Tommy's voice. He could practically see Tommy, shaking his head and murmuring 'bad move, dude'. God, he missed him.

"What?" Felicity sounded furious, now. He didn't think he'd ever heard her this angry. Maybe he should have saved this conversation for when she wasn't directly in his ear. "You know what, no. We are not going to talk. Just get over here before you pass out."

She cut the connection, and no matter how much he called her name, didn't answer. She wouldn't answer his texts, either. When he tried to call her on the phone, she was permanently 'not in a position to respond'. Still, he was right. He knew he was. He'd been living in a fool's paradise these past few months. All he had to do to harden his resolve was picture her lying on the ground, covered in blood, in those first few seconds when he wasn't even sure that she was still breathing. His fault, all of it.

When Oliver arrived at the foundry, it was empty. The lights were still on, though. He found a post-it note on the main monitor.

Lyla went into labor a few hours ago

It was left up to him what to do with that information. So, he'd been right to tell Diggle to go be with his family. Why wouldn't anyone admit it? She'd be better off keeping her distance too. He changed into his street clothes, and after a few seconds' deliberation, took the keys to the BMW. He wasn't sure he could handle the bike, and he couldn't take their van to a hospital parking lot.

When Oliver looked into the hospital room and saw Diggle, Lyla and their beautiful baby girl, he could only think once again that he'd been right to try and distance Diggle from the vigilante business. Felicity was sitting next to Lyla's bed cooing at the baby – Roy and Thea were in the corridor, looking in.

He congratulated Lyla while trying to ignore Diggle's glares, which promised that a conversation was going to happen sometime soon.

In the middle of all this, Felicity got up, said her goodbyes, and stalked off. Thea looked at him with barely suppressed annoyance.

"Go after her, idiot!" Thea wouldn't be saying that if she knew what he was going to say. Or maybe she would – and she'd call him something worse than 'idiot'.

He easily caught up with Felicity, even though she was walking much faster than usual, her body practically vibrating with anger. He caught her arm and she turned on him, her eyes blazing with fury.

"I said no, Oliver! I don't want to have this conversation! Or, wait, you know what-" She took out her mobile phone and started tapping into it, faster than he could follow. "How did you get here?"

"I – what?" The conversation had taken a strange turn. Oliver wasn't sure he was even having it anymore. Was this another hallucination?

"How. Did. You. Get. Here?" She'd never used the slow and deliberate 'I am talking to a moron' voice on him before.

"Uh – the BMW?"

She snapped her fingers, impatiently.

"Keys."

"Pardon?"

"Give me the car keys, Oliver," she answered, her deliberate patience suggesting that her temper was close to exploding, all over him.

He handed them over without another word.

"Hey, Thea!" His sister was standing in the doorway of Lyla's room, watching the group inside indulgently. "Think fast!"

At that, Felicity threw his car keys in a high arc, and Thea caught them out of the air, a blinding smile blossoming on her face. She waggled the keys at Roy, who was out of sight in the room. Felicity turned and stalked away, talking fast over her shoulder.

"So, you can either come with me, or walk home. Your choice. Whatever conversation we're going to have is not taking place in a hospital corridor."

He caught up with her again, and he never knew what spirit of stubbornness caused him to say, "I could always take a cab."

She turned on him like a fury.

"Try! Go on, try to make a phone call."

The same mulish determination made him take his phone out. As soon as he touched a key, the screen dissolved to black and a message appeared on it.

NO NETWORK, ASSHOLE!

It was flashing on and off.

He looked up, and Felicity had already arrived at the elevator to the parking garage. He tried to talk to her once as they went down to her car.

"Felicity-"

"Shush! I said, I don't want to hear it. Not here."

She drove to her apartment in silence, and once they arrived, he had to walk fast to catch up with her. She opened the front door, and he followed her in. When she turned the lights on, his heart sank.

There were candles. There were muted lights. There was soft music playing. The finishing touch was that the table was set as it had been at the restaurant, and there were covered dishes on it. When he turned to her, she was standing with her arms crossed. She looked a little less angry than she had been.

"I looked up the online menu at Luigi's. I ordered Italian takeout. I thought we could, you know, have a do-over, here, where we can have sex on the table if we want to. But that's not what you had in mind at all, is it?"

All he wanted was to take her in his arms and never let go – but it was impossible, couldn't she see that?

"Felicity, we can't be together. I can't be the Arrow, and be with you. Can't you understand that?"

"No, I can't! I don't get why you're reacting this way! Slade Wilson stabbed me and you didn't do this!" Her eyes darkened a little at the mention of Slade Wilson; she'd told him about the feeling of confusion, of not knowing what had happened to her, that it had been worse than the pain.

"Slade Wilson – that was your plan. This- this was my fault, Felicity! I was off my game, and you almost died!"

Her eyes widened with anger.

"Seriously? Your hurt pride is why you want us to break up?"

"No, of course not! It's not about that! I can't risk you getting hurt because you're a part of my life!"

"This is it, then? Some guy with a bazooka – do not correct me on what it's called, Oliver, I can see it in your eyes – takes a shot at us and you give up?" She nodded, her eyes bitter. "You run away, like you always do."

Oliver didn't know how to explain to her, what to say to make her understand.

"I need you to be safe, Felicity. If that means I have to live without you, then-"

He broke off, unable to continue.

Her brows were furrowed as she looked at him.

"You need me to be safe." She said the words slowly, like she wasn't sure what they really meant. She shook her head, and then moved closer to him, giving a little sigh.

"I didn't want to go there, Oliver, but you're not giving me any choice."

He looked at her face, puzzled. What was she getting at? The seconds passed like hours as she looked at him, chewing her lower lip in a way he found adorable, even as he tried to work himself up to walk away from her. She seemed to read something in his eyes, and gave a little nod. When she started speaking, it took him a while to understand what she was really saying. Until it hit him. Like a brick.

"You know my mother died. Of cancer."

The word hung in the air between them, and his blood turned to ice in his veins. He wanted nothing more than to leave, never to come back, so that he didn't have to hear her say any more. He stared at her, wanting to make her stop, somehow. He couldn't make out her eyes behind her glasses, couldn't tell if she was crying, or angry, or just blank. He wanted to beg her to stop talking, but his lips couldn't form words.

"Sometimes cancer can be congenital. That means-"

"I know what it means." He barely recognised his own voice as he ground the words out.

"You can't shoot cancer with an arrow, Oliver."

He put his hands to his forehead, like he could beat her words out of his brain.

"It could be inside me right now, Oliver, and you're worried about some guy with a gun and a grudge? A man you already dealt with, by the way. By beating the crap out of him." She shook her head, smiling at him. How could she be smiling? "You can't beat up cancer. It can't be reasoned with. It can't be bargained with-"

"Felicity, please." How could she joke about this?

"Gallows humour, Oliver. You should try it sometimes." She'd moved closer to him, and he could see her eyes, now. They were warm, and filled with love. He didn't deserve it.

"I'm not as strong as you, Felicity."

"Oh, I don't know. I mean, you do some dumb shit, sure. But," she slipped her arms round his waist and rested her head on his chest, "I like you that way," she finished.

Oliver gave up. His resolve left him, all in a rush. He was standing there, his arms at his sides while she wound herself around him like a vine, and he couldn't remember why he needed to push her away, again. Even the thought of her getting sick made him want to rage at the universe for allowing disease to exist. After an internal struggle, he gave in, and let his hands rest on her back. She snuggled closer. Then she pulled back, and glared up at him.

"I hope you don't think this means anything sexual is going to happen tonight, Oliver. My plan still stands, of making you beg-"

"Oh, I'm begging," he interrupted. If she wanted to use humour as a defence mechanism, two could play at that game.

"-for forgiveness," she concluded, still mock glaring.

"That too," he said, nodding fervently, and she couldn't hold back a giggle.

Then she sighed, and looked up at him quizzically.

"What was so special about the date, anyway? Apart from the fact that the restaurant got blown up."

"I got a ring," he mumbled, and he sensed rather than saw the pitying look she sent his way.

"Oh, Oliver," she said.

"I know, I know. It's too soon, right?"

Felicity hesitated, before nodding, slowly.

"It's not that I don't want to- I mean . . . On the other hand, you never know what might happen. Maybe we should- ugh. Ok. Let's just wait for a while." She sounded like she was torn, but trying to be practical about it.

He decided to give her some time before asking, and this time no jerk with an RPG was going to stop him. She settled against his chest with a happy sigh.

"Hey, I never asked you if you were alright – you said you got dosed?"

He tried to remember what she meant, but the smell of her hair was distracting.

"Focus, Oliver!" He was focused – on her warm curves in his arms, rubbing against him.

"It was nothing much – just another version of Vertigo, with an added ingredient."

Her brow furrowed.

"Not Mirakuru, then."

"No, it was something that made you see your biggest fear."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "What did you see? Commitment?"

He gave her a look which tried to be stern, but wasn't successful.

"No, it was me. When I was in the Bratva." He shuddered. At her enquiring look, he continued. "I beat him to a pulp. Lance had to pull me off him."

She looked a bit worried, but then seemed to let it go, trying to reassure him with her hand stroking his chest.

"So, when we first met, hmm? So hot," she said, in her best dreamy voice. "So sexy." She was trying to lighten the memories. He could tell.

"Yes, when I killed you," he answered, tiredly.

He could see that she was thinking of a way to cheer him up, and then it dawned on him. It shouldn't always be her tiptoeing around his emotions, and trying to raise his spirits. He was going to try something.

"Wait, don't tell me. You got better."

She gasped. He looked down at her and her eyes had turned smoky and dark, and a little smile played about her lips. He swallowed. He felt her hands at his waistband, opening his pants and slipping inside, and he moaned.

"I thought you were going to make me beg," he groaned, even as his entire body told him to shut up. She'd started playing with his cock, and his hands had naturally gravitated to her ass.

"That was before you used Monty Python on me. You know I'm defenceless before your seductive powers, Oliver." She slid her hands under his sweater and over his chest, and he moaned again.

"I must remember that," he gasped.

She pulled him towards the couch and sat him down on it, then climbed into his lap.

"Aren't you glad I'm wearing a dress today," she murmured, as she pulled the skirt up and straddled him.

He buried his hands in her hair and kissed her deeply while she squirmed and rocked in his lap. He nuzzled her neck and she whimpered happily. Then she pulled away and glared at him.

"Oliver, you have to promise me one thing." She was dead serious, he could tell, even though she didn't try to stop him as he slid his hand up her skirt.

He nodded, not needing to answer. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming.

"I can't go through this every time someone takes a shot at us, or every time I get hurt. Or," she continued, lowering her eyes, "if I get sick."

He shook his head, ready to protest that he'd never leave her if that happened, never, but she put her fingers over his lips, smiling.

"I mean, I don't know the Queen family motto, but I'm pretty sure it isn't 'Feets don't fail me now!'"

"I'm sorry, Felicity." He kissed her fingers and crushed her to him, whispering in her ear. "I promise. I love you."

Oliver wanted to say more, but couldn't get the words out. He wanted to beg her never to leave him, to thank her for putting up with his bullshit, for not walking away from him when she should have. All he could do was hold her and shower her with kisses, knowing that this was his second chance, and that he was taking it, holding on to her, and never letting go.

Hours later, Oliver and Felicity are asleep on the couch, a blanket covering them both. Her head rests on his chest, and his arm possessively circles her waist. On the floor next to them, their silenced mobile phones have been flashing on and off for the past half hour. The caller is Barry Allen, and Felicity would be happy to see that, if she were awake.

Anyone watching from high above Starling City would see a red streak zooming through the city streets, which eventually resolves into an open faced young man with brown hair, and whose sneakers are on fire. He stamps them out when he arrives at his destination, which is Verdant. It is empty, and shuttered. He doesn't know how to get into the foundry, so he gives up, and decides to go back to Central. Once Felicity starts answering her phone, he'll tell her everything.

So, Barry speeds away from Starling City, towards the sunrise, and home. Somehow, even though he doesn't really know what's happened to him, besides the obvious, and what might still be happening, he has a strange feeling of hope inside him. He feels it in his bones. Everything is going to be alright.

Notes:

So, final notes for this story -

The incident when Felicity changes the outcome of the Slade Wilson incident was always the climax to the story, and the ending with them getting attacked by Zytle was always the ending.

Once again, I wanted the outcome to be different - I hated that Felicity on the show didn't even try to fight for them, and my case was going to be different. Of course, in my case, they were already in a relationship, but did that stop Oliver from trying his usual bullshit? Of course not.

So, I hope everyone liked the ending!