The road finally leads them to New Orleans. The city is old and new at the same time; rich in a way that goes beyond money and it's difficult to put into words. It is early September. Mystery and jazz can be smelled in the air and Felicity falls irremediably in love with the French Quarter on a lazy sunny afternoon.

Oliver can see it in her eyes, bright and wide and filled with all the good kinds of excitement. They travel on a budget and she has early on imposed a strict no-luxuries-policy that includes avoiding mayor tourism sightings, nevertheless, he has managed to convince her to go to the Royal Cafe; he will gladly pay the over-price after seeing the reaction on her face.

"You love it here," he says as he watches her trying to take her surroundings in.

They are seated on a cosy little table near the window. He holds her hand over the creamy tablecloth and entangles their fingers, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.

"It is-" she begins but her mouth falls adorably open as another new thing catches her attention. "I have never been in a place like this. It's so different from Las Vegas or Starling City." She looks back at him finally, smiling. Her clear blue eyes fixed on his. "I've never travelled much. When I was in college I had no money. Then I started working and I never seemed to have enough time and more recently there was always too much going on."

There is a longing in her words that Oliver wishes he could take away, give to her what he remembers of the wasted year he irresponsibly spent partying with Tommy through South America after his first year of college, or some of those unappreciated family trips to exotic places that always seemed too boring for his taste.

"Where would you like to go?"

She snorts like the question is far too obvious. "Anywhere. Everywhere."

There is a certain assertiveness in her voice that it is mesmerizing. He texts Thea in between starters and buys the plane tickets before dessert.

"Let's go," he says just as they pay the check, grabbing her hand and dragging her out to the street. The sky is already dark and Felicity's laugh echoes in the corners of colonial landmarks. "We have a plane to catch," he declares.

She stops on her feet, confused but smiling. Her hair is loose and a slight rush of wind sends it and the skirt of her yellow sundress flying in the air.

"A plane? Where to?"

He smiles. His hands automatically take their rightful place on her waist and he leans to properly kiss her in the middle of the street, her lips familiar and new all at once.

"Anywhere. Everywhere," he says.

They land on a small airport near Milan with little more baggage than their passports, some credit cards and as many clothes as they could fit into their brand new backpacks.

They have no plan, no roadmap, they just explore the country hand in hand at their own pace catching trains and picking up rental cars that leads them to the Amalfi coast and Sorrento, to the ancient cities of Pompeii and Herculano, enjoying the food and the wine until the roads stop being italian and start belonging to France.

They walk through Toulouse and Carcassone and if Oliver wasn't stupidly in love with her already he would have fallen hard and fast just watching her face as she sees the modernist buildings of Barcelona for the first time.

"I can't believe this. I'm backpacking through Europe, I have actually kind of hiked the mount Tibidabo and what do I find?"

The baffled tone in her voice would make him smirk if it wasn't because he takes the preventive measurements of biting his lower lip.

"Lots of tourists?"

"Lots of tourists! And the tiniest amusement park ever seen!" She looks around herself and finally sets her eyes on him with her lids half-closed accusingly. "No secluded, romantic lake anywhere. I feel like everything I thought I knew is a lie."

He pulls her closer and kisses the top her head.

"Is this about that episode of Friends you made me watch last night?"

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet," she says against his t-shirt, her slender fingers trespassing under the hem to caress the little of his back with just the tip of her nails. The warmth spreading through his insides has little to do with the unforgiving Spanish sun.

Greece turns out to be too sunny and too dry for her licking which, coming from a Las Vegas girl is quite rich, but the islands agree with her; her loose hair twirls and turns in exuberant waves due to the salted water of the sea and the air of the old Mediterranean Sea tans her skin ever so slightly. He is not a big fan of islands but he could learn to over it here

They get to walk among the remains of ancient empires and make love in isolated beaches of solid rock instead of sand before the poor wi-fi connection epidemic that seems to suffer most of the country finally gets on her nerves.

The next few days feels like weeks, months, years. They visit cities and cross borders with celerity as they travel through Albania, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia…

"This is ridiculous. It seems like we need to procure our passports every fifteen minutes," Felicity whines are they make their way across the Austrian border. "It is been, how much since the last time? a hundred miles?"

Oliver knows her bad temper has little to do with the inconvenience of Custom's procedure and a lot with the poor breakfast they have had that morning so he smiles politely at the officer that is checking his documents and urges her gently to keep going.

"At least this time we don't have to change currency," Oliver says in a placating voice.

"Thank God for small miracles and Euro-zone!"

By the time they reach the north of Germany the days are short and the temperature drops fast as the sun leaves the sky but Oliver isn't going to complain, the uninviting weather making it easy to spent long hours in bed under its warm blankets, kissing lazily as the rain hits the bedroom windows.

Russia is nothing like he remembered it. It's kinder and less violent with Felicity by her side. They get to catch the trans-Siberian train and avoid all the kind of troubles that two North American tourists could inadvertently get into.

Oliver talks to some locals and casually drops a couple of pinpoints names and they manage to cheaply rent a little apartment near downtown in Vladivostok for a couple of nights.

Winter days are now close ahead and Felicity has long since changed the colourful tank tops that showed her lightly tanned skin for sweaters, coats and thick clothes that now lay in disarray on the floor.

"Last time we were in Russia you made some poor judgement calls," she says in a whisper, her lips caressing the shell of his ear before lightly biting it.

He shudders, his hands full of naked skin as he carries her to the bed.

"I like to think that I've learned a thing or two since then," he answers in between kissing her throat.

It is satisfactorily easy to banter with her now, to react at her comebacks and point out her unintentional double entendres with a knowing smirk. Felicity presses her body against his, their limbs entangled under the sheets as they indulge in lazy kisses and touches.

It feels like they have all the time in the world at their disposal.

If crossing from Russia to China with an American passport is a little too suspicious their own good, the soldiers for the border are prone to overlook it in exchange for the right amount of American dollars. A little of sweet talk and a couple of smiles and they make it into the country hand in hand without being troubled furthermore.

"What did you say to them?"

"Oh, nothing, just a couple of compliments to their good work and loyalty to the great nation of China."

Felicity makes a face, like suspects something is going on, her hand still warm and firm in his with their fingers interlaced as they walk away from the border "Are you sure?"

"That I said that? Yes, pretty sure."

Maybe not with those exact words but he has always been pretty bad at literal translations and as the old said goes, is the thought that counts.

"I mean, you picked up a weirdly amount of difficult to acquire skills in five years, maybe you don't know as much Chinese as you think you do," she half closes her lids for intent, ·maybe you just have inadvertently sold me for a pound of rice, that guy smiled at me pretty weirdly."

"I know Chinese," he reassures her.

"So what you are trying to imply is that if you'll sell me for a pound of rice, it wouldn't be unintentional?" she teases.

"Yes," he teases back and she smiles so brightly that seems impossible that merely a year ago their lives were sunk in darkness.

He thought he could never leave it behind, that he would never be able to remember the person he was beneath the missions and the green leather suit, much less that he would be able to have something resembling of a life again but a gentle wind blows and he smells the subtle, sweet perfume of felicity by his side and it's the other path that seems impossible now.

Felicity leans on him playfully as she says "my mom used to warn me against guys like you."

For a couple of seconds he tries to figure out what kind of category that might be before giving up "Guys like me?" because he somehow doubts that Donna Smoak would have given any kind of advice to her young daughter regarding broken ex-vigilantes.

"Yeah; charming college dropouts," she says, "Multiple times."

"That was coincidentally also my nickname," he jokes.

Her laugh is loud and carefree like bad things never made a stain on her.

"Oh my God I can't believe you just made that terribly bad pun!"

"'Terribly bad pun', yes I think I've been called that too."

She punches him in the arm and laughs even harder if that is possible.

The call surprises them a week after setting foot in Shanghai. The information is a little confusing and the details far too complicated to explain over the phone but Felicity gathers that there has been some kind of accident involving Ray and she has somehow inherit the presidency of his company.

Felicity looks at him with her impossible blue eyes filled with unshed tears and apprehension and Oliver holds her, rocks her softly and tells her that everything will be find as he kisses the top of her head.

They buy two plane tickets that would carry them back to Starling City, so they pick up their passport and their wallets and leave pretty much everything else behind.

They have nothing to check in, nothing to hide and nothing to declare but go through the arduous process of airport security Felicity seems a little wary and a little too quiet for her normal self.

"Are you okay?"

"What? Yes," she says distracted, "I'm just a little anxious about going back home."

He nods in understanding although he doesn't share her anxiety. He feels raw and new and longing for things that have little to do with Starling City. He feels the sudden weight of missing his sister for several months and the intrinsic irritation of a long flight ahead.

They walk towards the boarding gate, her blonde hair standing out in the crowd, it's longer than he ever remembers seeing on her and for a moment he can't repress the urge to lift his hand and run his fingers through its softness.

They come to a stop, she turns and embraces his waist in a loose hold that allows her to look at him in the eyes "Do you think we will get bored?" she asks with apprehension.

"Bored? Of what?"

"Of normal life," her voice is barely over a whisper, "of us."

It seems preposterous to him. He has grown so used to her presence by his side that the mere thought of not wanting her there feels like not wanting air to fill in his lungs. He wonders briefly, if he could keep being this person that fills in his skin now without her in his life.

"I think at this point, for us a suburban routine is as an exotic experience as you can get."

She smiles and takes a deep breath. "Yeah, you are right."

"Besides, you can hack into high security databases, who can get bored of that?"

"Yes and you can order chinese in chinese, how is not that handy?"

The people rush around them as they keep immobile in this casual embrace that maybe could last a whole lifetime.

"I think you should move in with me, when we'll arrive home," her voice is soft and her eyes clear. She looks hopeful and happy and preposterously expectant so he leans in to kiss her with studied slowness, trying to show the emotions that will make his voice falter if he'd try to use words instead.

In the back pocket of his jeans there is an engagement ring he bought out of a whim in Ambers that threatens to burn a hole in the fabric out of impatience to be used.