"I took a walk on a Saturday night. Fog in the air just to make my mind seem clear. Where do I go from here? I see my breath pushing steam through the air. Shaking hands run through my hair. My fears, where do I go from here?" — "My Fault" by Imagine Dragons

Felicity could hear Oliver calling her name, but she didn't stop, and she most certainly didn't look back. She pushed her way through Verdant's Saturday night crowd and onto the dark street, rounding the building before she finally chanced a glance over her shoulder. For the first time ever, she was glad he hadn't followed her.

A group of college co-eds passed, laughing and joking, on their way into the club, and for a moment Felicity tried to remember what it was like when life was simple. Normal.

She pressed her back against the side of the building and closed her eyes, lifting her face to the sky and letting the now quiet night wash over her. She wasn't sure if the flush she felt was from the cool evening air on her warm skin or from the fact that she could still feel Oliver's lips moving against hers; His hands cording through her hair; Their bodies pressed so close together that she lost track of where she ended and he began.

"Damnit," she whispered, opening her eyes. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her racing heart and decided that, instead of driving home, she would walk to clear her head.

Kissing Oliver was as mind-bending and incredible as she always imagined it would be, and despite that her heart was aching.

The mission was supposed to be simple reconnaissance — information gathering to try and determine who was distributing the new Vertigo drug inside Starling City's nightclubs, and the op was going according to plan. Oliver waltzed into Posh and made quick work of distracting the club's owner Elena Torino, while Felicity snuck into her office to copy files from her computer.

She was almost in the clear when Diggle's voice came over her comm unit. "Felicity, get out of there. Elena's en route to her office."

The download completed just as Felicity was pulling the flash drive from the laptop, but she was still kneeling in front of Elena's desk as the office door swung open. She looked up with wide eyes and was only slightly surprised to see Oliver, not Elena, in the doorway.

"Oliver, we have to get out of here," Felicity said, grabbing his arm.

"No time," he said, glancing over his shoulder. Before Felicity had time to process what was happening, Oliver had pulled her to her feet and pushed her up against the wall. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and then his lips were on hers. White-hot fire shot through Felicity, and she quickly responded to his kiss by wrapping her hands around his neck to pull him closer. His hands, which were tangled in her long, blonde hair, began to move down her body until they reached her hips, and he gripped them tightly, pulling her flush against him. She tilted her head back against the wall, an invitation Oliver took willingly, and he began pressing searing kisses down her neck onto her collarbone.

"What the HELL is going on in here?" Felicity's eyes shot open at the sound of Elena's voice, and she searched Oliver's face. He looked calm, but she knew better. She could still feel his heart beating wildly beneath her hand, which had made its way down to his chest. His breathing was heavy against her face. The entire encounter hadn't lasted more than a minute or two, but Felicity knew that Oliver was just as affected as she was.

He took a half step back from Felicity and looked toward the door, where Elena was standing. "Sorry, I just couldn't help myself," he said, flashing Elena his trademark smile, the one Felicity knew made most girls weak in the knees. It took everything she had not to roll her eyes. Oliver grabbed Felicity by the hand and pulled her out of the office. He didn't let go until they were outside, on his Ducati and heading back toward the foundry.

Felicity's phone vibrating in her pocket was enough to jerk her back to the present. She pulled it out, relieved to see that it was Diggle. She took two deep breaths before answering.

"Hi."

"Hey there. You all right?" Hearing Digg's voice soothed Felicity in a way that only he could do.

She sighed, and pointedly ignored his inquiry with a question of her own. "So, how long do I have before he catches up with me?"

"He left on the bike about five minutes ago."

"I'm surprised he hasn't tried calling," Felicity said, checking the time on her phone. She'd been walking for at least 20 minutes."

Diggle chuckled, "It's hard to make calls on a phone that's broken into pieces."

Felicity stopped walking and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in frustration. "Ugh. Another one?"

"He was pretty pissed when he saw your car still parked outside and realized you were on foot," Diggle said. "And I have to be honest, I don't blame him."

"Digg, please. Not now," she implored.

"Felicity, you shouldn't be walking around in The Glades by yourself, ever, let alone at night." If they'd been having this conversation face-to-face he'd probably be leaning against the metal medical table, with his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed over his chest, chin tilted down slightly. Felicity smiled, in spite of herself, as she pictured him.

"I know," she said, quietly. "I just needed to get out of there and clear my head."

"He told me what happened. I get why you're upset with him."

"I'm not mad at Oliver," Felicity said, tilting her head back again to look up at the clear night sky. "I'm mad at myself."

Felicity didn't have time to explain because she could hear the roar of the Ducati approaching from behind her. "Sounds like my ride's here. Good night, John."

"Night Felicity."

She ended the call and placed the phone back in her pocket as Oliver pulled the bike up to the curb. She stopped walking but didn't turn toward him.

"Get on," he said, flipping the visor up on his helmet.

"Oliver, I'm almost home. Just let me walk," she said, unable to meet his eyes.

"Felicity, please." It was the way he said her name, and the word please, that made her finally look at him. He'd removed his helmet, and in his eyes, Felicity could see that he looked the way she felt. Tired. Defeated. Heartbroken.

Without a word she swung her leg over the side of the bike and settled in behind him. He handed her a second helmet and squeezed her hands, which were already wrapped around his waist. "Hold on tight."

"I'm tired. Can you just take me home? I'll come back for my car in the morning," she asked, resting the front of her helmet-clad head against his back.

Oliver looked over his shoulder at Felicity, and she felt her pulse begin to pick up. She wondered if she ever had the same effect on him. Before tonight, her answer would have been an emphatic 'No,' but now she wasn't so sure. But before Felicity's thoughts turned into an embarrassing bout of nervous babbling, Oliver said, "We're not going home. Not yet."

She tightened her arms around his waist as he revved the Ducati to life and mentally filed away for later his use of the words "we" and "home."

A/N: Thanks so much for reading. I'm planning a second part to this story from Oliver's perspective, and possibly (probably) a third part for resolution.

If you liked it let me know! Your reviews keeps me going!