She remembered the first time.

The scene played across the surface of her mocha latte as the corner of her lip curled upward. It was a Friday. She distinctly remembered that because her favorite band had guest starred on Good Morning Starling City and she lingered to watch the performance in a very fangirl-obsessive-she-couldn't-get-enough way. This made her otherwise stellar reputation for punctual attendance in the IT department of Queen Consolidated a little less than stellar that day. Felicity had also inconveniently forgotten that her car was in the shop for repair and her delay had caused her to miss the bus that would have taken her to the building's main entrance, so instead, she took the next bus that dropped her off almost two blocks away.

This led to a brisk walk-almost-run to work during which time she nearly got plowed over by a courier bicycle, got her heel stuck in a grate, causing her to hobble back for her shoe amid many awkward stares, and nearly snag her new argyle stockings on a wayward branch of an unruly city shrub in front of the building.

When Felicity finally made it to the revolving doors a crush of nearly late employees squeezed her through, sardine style. As if the whole morning hadn't been bad enough, the series of unfortunate events continued when her badge was knocked out of her hand and she was sent scampering after it as people around her continued to kick it around in their morning march.

"Seriously?" she had sighed in exacerbation when a highly polished shoe stepped hard and kept her badge in place under its Italian crafted sole. Felicity watched in anticipation as a hand reached down to pick up the badge and hold it out in front of her.

"Yours, I think?" asked distinctly male voice she didn't recognize. Her line of sight went from shoe, to badge, to hand, to shoulder and finally to his face and that's when she thought she heard her own voice say "wow" when she stared into his piercing blue eyes, but Felicity couldn't be sure.

"Oliver, keep up," said a stern voice from behind him. Felicity peered over his broad shoulder to spy Mrs. Moira Queen, CEO of Queen consolidated who was also known as "The Ice Queen." Knowing her own tendency to gawk, she wondered how many seconds passed in that awkward moment that felt like FOREVER.

To her mortification he was still holding her badge. Felicity could feel her face turn various shades of pink.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

She reached out an unsteady hand and mumbled an uncertain thanks that was answered by a flash of a smile against a handsomely chiseled jaw. Felicity purposefully avoided his blue eyes the second time.

"Omigod!" whispered another IT technician coming to her side. "Is that THE Oliver Queen, back from the dead?"

"He's cuter in person than on TV," another giggling co-worker had said.

So when, about a month later, he sought her out in the IT department for help, of course she knew who he was. Oliver Queen, son of the CEO, miraculously delivered from death to save her ID badge from an uncertain doom.

Her attention was pulled back to the present by her friend's voice. "Felicity? Hello? Earth to Felicity, do you copy?"

She looked up to see her friend Amanda shake her head in disbelief.

"I can't believe you tuned out while I was still talking," her friend said in her perfectly proper British accent that reminded Felicity of James Bond or Doctor Who.

"Sorry," she smiled sheepishly.

"So are you?" asked Amanda.

"Am I what?" asked Felicity in wide-eyed anticipation.

"Ugh, are you dating anyone right now?" asked her friend in mock frustration. Being her friend since college, Amanda was already used to everything that was Felicity.

"What? No!" said Felicity defensively, wondering when the conversation had taken this turn and how early she had checked out of it. "Why do you ask?"

"Well I just thought you looked so happy recently and I wondered if it was because you were seeing someone. When you first started working for Queen Consolidated you had that unwelcoming work mode face on all the time. It looked like it hurt to smile."

"Well, you know, there was that thing with my mother owing money to some very unwholesome people," muttered Felicity. "That preoccupied me a lot."

"Yes well, you 'fixed' that, didn't you?" she laughed. "Did you even tell your mum where you live now?"

"Of course not," said Felicity rolling up a paper napkin and tossing it into a nearby bin. "I also told her it was the last time I was going to help her out of a scrape."

"I'm surprised you don't go into a life of crime."

"It's a very fine line," Felicity agreed. If only you knew, Amanda. Aside from A.R.G.U.S. she was sure her name had crossed several federal bureau's lists by now.

"Regardless, this past year I saw something change in you, gradually. I didn't want to ask since you usually tell me everything and maybe you didn't want to jinx it or something. But I'm asking now since you've had that ridiculous grin on your face this entire time as you stare into that coffee that's obviously more interesting than I am."

"They made a pretty leaf pattern on top with the foam," said Felicity defensively. "See?" She tilted the cup in Amanda's direction.

"Help me out here, Fel. I'm burning with curiosity," her friend laughed. Felicity's grin tightened as she came to the conclusion that her beautiful, pale-skinned, auburn haired, buxom friend with long legs would be the type her employer would date. The probability was high. She brushed that thought aside quickly as she took another sip of her now luke warm coffee.

"Of course I'm not," Felicity responded.

"Why not?" demanded her friend. "If you don't hurry all the good ones will be gone."

"Oh?" asked Felicity nonchalantly. "Are they all boarding the mother ship back to their home planet or something?"

"I'm just saying you haven't dated since college, and you're not getting any younger."

"Thanks," said Felicity dryly. "I wasn't aware of that." She continued, "Statistically speaking, women who are college graduates have a slightly better chance at the marriage business than non-college grads. So I'm thinking I had a leg up on at least the barista here," scoffed Felicity.

"So you're more eligible than one girl in the city. Congrats," said her friend, her words dripping with sarcasm. "Or maybe there's something you're not telling me? Have you met someone?" asked Amanda.

A pair of piercing blue eyes came to mind.

Felicity thought of the past week, the last seven days to be precise, when she worked in their make-shift meeting place in the abandoned clock tower from early morning to late nights and a few times into the ungodly hours, both in the field and out, only to go home, shower, rinse and repeat the ritual like some crazy spin cycle.

But she loved every minute of it because she knew she was helping the City and being of use to him.

"Not really," she answered unfeelingly. "I'm happy with what I'm doing now."

"Aren't you unemployed?" asked Amanda incredulously. "Are you sure you don't want to come work for my company? It's got great pay, you can start immediately and the benefits are awesome."

Felicity only shrugged a response. "I'm in-between things right now. But I'm consulting…independently," she added.

"Well at least do me this one favor," pleaded Amanda. "We're having a mixer tonight at 7 o'clock, nothing big, just a few friends. It's at the new bar on the corner of 6th and Main. Promise me you will be there? Otherwise we have an uneven number."

"Well at least I'll be useful," smiled Felicity. "I don't know when I can get off of work today, but if I can't make it I'll text."

So despite Felicity's hoping that crime would be on the rise that night, it seemed that fate was working against her. Not only had her employer rounded up the last of those escapees from Iron Heights, there wasn't a single cat burglar lurking in the shadows on Friday night in Starling City. She wondered if even criminals were being dragged into social events that they couldn't get out of.

Close to the meeting time, she checked her appearance in her compact and released her abundance of blonde hair from its tight pony tail band. Felicity looked down and frowned at her wrinkled dress shirt. There was a small spot of coffee near the collar that she didn't have time to rinse out this morning.

This is as good as it's going to get.

"Hot date?" asked her partner, Dig, watching her fret over her appearance with an amused expression. "I don't think Oliver is going to be back for a while. Maybe you should ask him to pick you up at your place?"

Felicity stared at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.

"We aren't like that! Seriously-?" she started before taking a deep breath. "I am not going out with him. This is a just a get together at that new bar that opened up on 6th. My friend insisted that I go. She thinks I'm a social recluse."

"This job really doesn't allow for a social life," smiled Diggle a little wistfully. "You and I willingly signed up for it."

"Although," she added as an afterthought, "I really only officially signed up until we found Walter, and then we found Walter, or at least we knew where to look and Oliver actually found him and got him out, but by then I really became attached to you guys and to the cause; so I guess there was an inadvertent acceptance of long-term partnership…somewhere in there," she said in one breath.

Diggle smiled in response to her endearing babbling. "It'll be better once we move into the new HQ. It's closer to your house anyway."

"That's not the point. I have a feeling she's going to set me up," she said, emphasizing the last part to show her distaste for such things. She was a girl of action. If there was something she wanted, she would choose for herself how to get it. If it was impractical, she'd turn away. Having people choose for her always proved a waste of time.

She sighed and packed up her things. "So not looking forward to tonight. I just have to get past it and tomorrow I get to go check out our new super secret lair and see what else we need. That should be really exciting," she beamed.

"On a Saturday?" he asked.

"Crime doesn't take the weekends off," she said matter-of-factly.

Her partner chuckled. "No wonder they think you're a recluse."

"Can you hold down the fort by yourself tonight until he gets back?"

"I'll manage," he smiled. "Have fun."

She was determined to take her friend's advice but when Felicity walked past the velvet rope at the entrance and her senses were suddenly attacked with the flashing strobe lights, the scent of sweat mingled with alcohol and the sound of her favorite chick empowerment song blaring with a rhythmic infusion by the DJ on duty, she lost that confidence. It was ladies night and she was glad all she had to pay at the door to get in was a smile for the burly looking bouncer outside. Otherwise the place looked expensive.

The bar/club was contemporary classic, something out of a Rat Pack photo shoot, but more swag and less gaudy. She spotted her beautiful friend almost as soon as she walked in. The group was seated in the VIP section elevated apart from the dance floor. Pushing past the crowd of couples actively engaged in a social mating ritual, Felicity gave her most winsome smile to a table of complete strangers. Amanda, her fellow MIT graduate with a major in engineering and minor in energy studies, had invited friends who were of the same ilk, and most, if not all, from Ivy League schools.

Felicity sat next to a young man whose name she didn't catch over the noise but dubbed him as Forensic Chemist in her head. He reminded her a bit of her short-term friend, Barry Allen, still currently in a coma. She imagined he was the reason Amanda wanted her to come, since she knew all about Barry. There was something about his boyish grin that appealed to her. Not that she necessarily had a "type" but Felicity found some comfort in word groups like "easy-going" and "old-fashioned" and "boy-next-door." There was a sense of stability in those expressions that she found wholesome. As Forensic Chemist continued talking/shouting in her ear about the type of music he liked and actually sounded surprised to know a tech geek like her actually played a musical instrument.

"So I hear your an IT girl?" Forensic Chemist asked. Though she didn't like the catchphrase Felicity let it slide since she concluded he didn't mean any harm by it.

It's not like I only have one interest in life, she thought to herself. I like cake. I play the piano. I like Big Belly Burgers. I've also grown to like the color green...

"I mean, I really, really, really do like computers and all things that have to do with programming and reverse engineering someone else's program to make it do what I want," she continued the conversation in her head out loud. "But I also like comic books and music. Once I read comic books for five hours straight and then I went down the street to grab some coffee but as I passed people on the sidewalk I imagined everything they said in comic bubbles and comic style vectors. I even thought I saw thought bubbles floating over their heads and pretended to see what they were thinking. But the novelty had worn off by the time I made it to the coffee shop around the corner where they were playing Beethoven's Fifth on their speakers and I thought it would be awesome to read comic books while listening to Beethoven. I was surprised I hadn't thought of that before."

The two topics didn't sound as incongruous in her head as they did out loud. She recognized the furrowed brow on Forensic Chemist's face as a sign of disinterest or conversational death. Maybe I should just let the guy do all the talking... I think that's a rule somewhere...

"I'm going to go powder my nose," she laughed at herself and headed towards the ladies room but saw the back door down the hall propped open and instead stepped outside on the deserted patio area for some air.

"That was so incredibly awkward and predictable," Felicity sighed in lament. Her face remained stoic but her insides were cringing.

Taking in a few more breaths of the cool evening air she turned to go back inside when she heard muffled voices nearby. Walking to the edge of the patio area to the railing she could see a group of men hovering in the shadows. In the middle of the group was a girl who looked like she was a little too young to be a patron of the bar and she looked like she was in trouble. The girl was asking to borrow a phone to call her friends but the guys probably had something else in mind. Felicity could hear her plead with the group to let her go find her friends again but one of them snatched her purse while another pushed her against a wall.

Not good. Not good. Not good.

Felicity chewed her lip and and clenched her fists as the scene got worse. Without thinking she pulled her laptop out of her purse and scanned the area for their cell phones. Simultaneously she pulled up the city's power grid system to her exact location. Finding their cell phone connections in her scan Felicity uploaded the virus she "inherited" from the Clock King and they all screamed as their phones blew up in their pockets. Then, in their confusion she turned off the street lamps on that side of the block. Tucking her computer back into her bag, Felicity jumped the rail and ran towards the girl.

"Run!" she commanded as she grabbed a hold of the girl's thin wrist in the dark and tugged hard. The near hysterical girl stopped whimpering and did as she was told while Felicity dragged her along, both running as fast as they could in heels. They made it back to the front of the club where the sobbing girl's friends welcomed her back with open arms and concerned frowns.

When the girl explained what happened they thanked Felicity with genuine gratefulness and hailed a cab to go home. She waved them goodbye and pulled out her laptop again, this time turning the power back on and sending a text to Amanda that she was tired and would call her later.

Felicity inhaled deeply and smoothed out her anxiety like an eraser to a dry erase board; something she had a penchant to do when excited. It had almost become a habit due to her new line of employment. It had worked when she was programming under extreme circumstances or when she was being counter-hacked. It had worked when she was dragged out of an airplane and forced to parachute. It had worked on those several occasions when she was held hostage with a pointy, pokey, or shoot-y thing. It worked whenever her heart stopped and she thought she heard Oliver get hurt, maimed or killed while they were still connected through an ear piece only to have him tell her he was OK.

She was a girl of many talents. A girl on fire, but cool as cucumber. That thought eventually led her to stop by the corner store and pick up some salad on her way home, spending the rest of her Friday night alone.

The next morning, without missing a beat, she headed to the new HQ. Nothing warmed her heart more on a weekend morning than getting down to doing what she loved most.

Felicity entered the numbers 1-7-9-1 into the keypad, the year Charles Babbage was born, and let the screen scan her thumbprint before she heard the industrial strength tumblers behind the metal door unlock. She pushed open the heavy door to reveal a very airy, stone room with light streaming through the narrow, bullet proof cathedral style windows and the skylight high above. Felicity had a plan for the lighting in the room already set in her head, but for now, she was satisfied with the fact she put sensors all over the building for the perimeter guard. She would have to ensure that the underground escape into the sewer system was littered with sensors as well with a reinforced hatch complete with its own fancy lock.

As Felicity's plans continued to churn in her head she wondered if it was within their budget to build a self-destruct mechanism in case of dire need. Was she being overly-dramatic? Of course not. The Foundry had been invaded by more unwelcome visitors that she preferred. She wanted the security to be air tight this time, since the Arrow's things were all kept here. Maybe she could convince Oliver that he needed a few secret hiding places in the floor or in the wall to store back up generators, back up hard drives, and other super secret stuff like the Skeleton Key, another part of her "inheritance" from the Clock King. Felicity would sleep with that thing under her pillow from now on if necessary.

Felicity was glad that Dig had helped her mount their new speaker system into the wall earlier last week. Now she could get down to work. She brought up her playlist on the touch screen and started with a modern mash up of Beethoven's Fifth with a pop song.

Maybe a couch with some cushions...and a fridge. It was really starting to feel like home.

Stopping only to sing along with the refrain, Felicity was beginning to like the acoustics in this space more and more.

"Tell me what you wanna hear, something that will light those ears; I'm sick of all the insincere. I'm gonna give all my secrets away."

Before she knew it, she entered a trance-like state and a slow smile of perfect contentment spread across her lips. She happily started her calibration of the sensors on the main computer. Felicity's toes tapped while her fingers would sometimes fly up from the keyboard to conduct her favorite parts of the song. Among her talents was speed typing, which was almost mandatory in her line of work, and this she balanced while looking at three separate screens.

After a sustained 30 minutes of this activity, she was finished with the initial security system she started working on back up security systems, multiple firewalls, and new ideas for leaving several minefields in the system in the event anyone tried a reverse hack to trace their whereabouts. The little "surprises" she would leave to would-be hackers would leave a signature she could trace afterwards. That is, if they could find her first, since she left her false signature in hard drives on servers all over the world. Felicity imagined an evil genius laughing in the recesses of her mind.

"He did say I was 'remarkable'," she smiled sheepishly to herself. At that point, her favorite song, Girl on Fire, blared through the speakers and Felicty happily got up to express herself in ways that probably should only be done in front of a bathroom mirror.

She froze in mid step when she heard someone clear his throat behind her. She reached over to lower the volume and then to her horror saw Oliver walk over with a wry smile on his lips, barely able to contain his amusement and keep his laughter at bay.

"Don't you knock?" she insisted, trying to cover her flustered insides with fake bravado. "H-How long have you been standing there?"

"This is my secret hide out," Oliver smiled, "and long enough."

She sighed. And 3...2...1...I'm calm. Her pulse stopped pounding in her ears and she gave him a small smile.

"I was just working on our firewall...or should I say 'firewalls' since we now have several? Did I tell you before that I redesigned the Trojan Horse to blow up in their faces? I call it the 'Minefield,' named after that godforsaken island of yours, of course. If I never see a land mine again it will be too soon-" Felicity stopped babbling, something Oliver was very used to by now, when he put a gentle hand on her cheek and for a moment she feared his piercing blue eyes could see right through her.

"W-What?" she stammered.

"Are you OK?" he asked quietly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"After what happened last night, I'm surprised you could sleep at all," he chuckled.

"What do you mean..." she asked. Her eyes went wide and she gawked. "You were there?! You saw it all? Why didn't you help?"

"I was going to but you seemed to be doing pretty well on your own," he said. There was a mixture of pride, amusement and concern on his face. "Try not to make that a habit. I don't think you realize how much I need you."

"Oh, come on-" she began, about to render some self-deprecating remark only to stop when he leaned down and put his forehead on hers.

"There was a moment when the lights went out that I lost sight of you. My heart almost stopped. I need to know where you are at all times," he said steadily.

"Oh," she breathed. "OK."

"I've already put a tracking device on you."

"What? Where?!" she demanded.

He made no response and only brushed his lips against her forehead, ignoring the flustered noises she was making. Felicity's legs started having a Jell-O like consistency and she leaned against his solid form for support.

He offered her a genuine smile and said in a low voice, "I didn't get the chance to ask you yesterday, but have dinner with me tonight." Before Felicity could remark that it sounded more like a command than a request he changed the topic of conversation to the next line of business. Her thoughts were interrupted by coffee and doughnuts and Dig's bright smile.

Felicity couldn't hide the smile or the blush on her face now. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that she could stay close to him. She joined them as they discussed the agenda for the day, the day after tomorrow, and the days after that. For as long as she could, she would not take her eyes off Oliver and she would protect him to the best of her ability. After all, she was his girl, on Fridays or otherwise.

And he set her on fire.

She wouldn't turn back now. That was her choice.

Author's note: I'm a recent Arrow fan but a fervent Olicity shipper. Thanks for your attention and allowing me to pour my fangirl feels on the screen for you. Felicity is kind of like his office wife to me, and I mean that in a soul-mate sort of way. A girl who he needs to show him the light when his world goes dark. I also feel that Arrow wouldn't be as interesting without Felicity, as expressed so expertly by Emily Bett Rickards, because she represents the majority of the audience, I imagine. So every time Oliver touches, cajoles, verbally spars with, or saves her, it's like the Producers giving us fan service. Well played, Producers, well played.

Until next time,

-Kero (7/19/14)