A/N: A big thank you to Jay (smoakinamell) for beta'ing this fic!
Trigger Warnings for PTSD, alcoholism, and mild Raylicity.
Present Day
Felicity took deep, calming breaths against the butterflies that attacked her stomach, while her fingers massaged the beaded fabric over her belly. Her perfectly painted reflection stared back at her, framed by long, side-swept bangs. The expression reflected in the mirror should have been glowing with ecstasy; instead, her brows were furrowed and her lips curved the wrong way. It was the external evidence of the war inside her mind.
She heard two knocks, and anticipation buzzed through her chest. When the door opened to reveal Thea, her best friend and maid of honor, Felicity tried not to look visibly disappointed. But Thea noticed anyway.
"Don't get too excited," she teased. "It's just me."
Felicity closed her eyes and let out a nervous laugh. "Sorry." She bit her lip as the question lingered on the tip of her tongue. "Is he-"
Thea pressed her lips together and shook her head.
Felicity hid her pain behind a smile. "Right," she said, trying to sound unaffected. "Doesn't matter." She tried to ignore the sharp pangs in her chest.
Thea walked up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "He'll be here. John's tracking him down now."
Felicity took a deep breath and shook off her emotions. The angry apathy she forced into her heart was familiar armor against heartbreak. She wouldn't let him ruin her day. "Doesn't matter," she repeated, a little bit louder. "It's the happiest day of my life, and no one can take that away from me."
Thea's reflection showed something like pity, or worry, at Felicity's statement.
"Stop that," Felicity scolded, pointing a finger at Thea through the mirror. "I'm fine."
"Okay," she conceded, throwing her hands up in surrender.
Eleven Years Ago
It was the best prep school within a thousand miles, they said. A brilliant mind like Felicity's needed more than the Las Vegas public schools could provide. So when Felicity turned 14, Donna made the difficult decision to move to Starling City and start over. There was nothing she wouldn't do for her baby girl.
"How was your first day of school, baby?"
"It was great!" Felicity said, beaming at her mother, and then proceeded to babble about all the computers and technology available at the school.
"That's wonderful," Donna said, trying to keep up. "Did you make any friends?"
The joy on her face dulled suddenly, as if turning off a switch.
Donna's heart broke. "Don't worry, baby," she said, holding her daughter close. "Give it some time."
Making friends didn't come easily to Felicity. Most people didn't understand her. They were often intimidated by her genius, and the crueler ones harassed her for it.
And then, one day, when a particularly nasty crew of girls gathered around her locker, one voice piped up in her defense.
"Do you really have nothing better to do than pick on little girls? You're all pathetic."
The crew of mean girls turned around, and Felicity cringed for the newcomer's fate.
"This one's not worth it, Queen," the leader said. "Move on."
Felicity scrunched her nose in confusion. Queen?
"You should move on," the new girl said. "Or this year's Halloween party is gonna have four less invites."
To Felicity's wonder, the mean girls left, leaving her face to face with a short, freckled brunette.
"Hi," she greeted with a smile. "I'm Thea Queen."
"Felicity Smoak," she replied with slightly numb lips.
"Come on, follow me." She grabbed Felicity by the elbow and led her down the hallway.
"Okay." Felicity stared at the brunette with wonder and a little fear. Who was this creature that could call off girls a foot taller than her, with a brashness that was as charming as it was effective?
The short, precocious brunette tossed a glance back at Felicity and smirked. "Don't be so scared, I'm not gonna bite."
"Unless I ask you to, I guess," Felicity blurted, not quite in control of her mouth.
Thea's eyes widened with shock as she barked a laugh. "Wow," she marveled, "we are gonna be such good friends."
Present Day
Thea left the room to take a call from John Diggle, excusing herself with a reassuring smile. "I'm sure he found Ollie by now," she said in an effort to assuage her friend's worry. Thea knew that for all of Felicity's bluster, she would be heartbroken if Oliver didn't show up.
"Talk to me, John," Thea said as she shut the door behind her. "Did you find him?"
Diggle growled in frustration. "I've checked the club and the house. I'm about to check the docks next. If he's not there, I might hit up every bar in Starling City to find his ass."
Thea sighed. "God, I hope he's at the docks." She didn't want to think about the latter scenario.
"You and me both. How's Felicity?"
"You know how she is," she said with a frown. "She's got a brave face on, but I know it hurts her that he's not here."
Diggle sighed. His frustration was palpable. "I'll find him, Thea."
"I know you will, John. You always do."
Three Years Ago
The rescue operation was a success, and Sgt. John Diggle's team had pulled out all but one of the POWs from the bunker. The last one lay on the damp stone floor in a fetal position, facing the wall.
"Hey, soldier," Diggle called softly, approaching the kid with caution. "You're going home."
There was no response.
"I'm going to turn you over," he warned, before tugging on the kid's waist.
He looked older than he probably was, with long, stringy hair and a full beard. His eyes were open and glazed over, staring through Diggle as if he wasn't there. There were some mean looking scars on his bare torso that would need extensive medical attention, and a homemade tattoo over his left pectoral in the shape of a multi-pointed star.
"Hey, kid," he whispered, trying to get a response. "You're safe now. You're going home."
The silence stretched out without a sound or movement from the kid. Diggle reached out and touched his shoulder, trying to reassure him through touch. Something about him tugged at Diggle's heart, reminding him of his little brother.
His eyes finally shifted and made contact with Diggle's, who blinked as something tangible between them clicked. The blue of the kid's eyes intensified, displaying pure, naked terror.
Diggle reached for his face, and the kid flinched. "It's okay," he reassured, stroking his cheek. "I got you. You're safe."
"Help me," he said, his voice cracking with fear.
"I got you," Diggle repeated. "You're safe."
The kid reached up to grab his hand, clinging to it with all his might. Diggle placed his other hand on top, patting it in a gesture of comfort. "Do you remember your name, soldier?"
"Sergeant Oliver Queen, 10th Mountain," he recited by rote.
"Okay, Sergeant Queen," Diggle said, helping his new friend to his feet, "let's get you home."
Present Day
He found Oliver at the docks, staring out at the open water with his feet dangling over the edge. As Diggle drew closer, dismay filled his heart as he noticed what Oliver held in his hands: a bottle of something, most likely alcoholic.
"I can't do it, John," Oliver said as soon as Diggle was within earshot. He didn't sound drunk, at least.
"Do what?" Diggle asked, taking a seat beside his friend. "Drink that scotch? Or watch Felicity get married?"
Oliver shoved the bottle into Diggle's chest. The foil around the opening was still intact, the alcohol inside untouched.
"Either," Oliver muttered, lowering his head into his hands.
Relief and pride filled Diggle's heart at the evidence of Oliver's fortitude. He held the bottle by the neck and raised it in the air. "For what it's worth, I'm proud of you."
Oliver snorted. "You shouldn't be. If I was a better person, I wouldn't have bought it in the first place."
"You didn't drink it," Diggle said. "You are a better person."
Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
Diggle gave Oliver's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Eighteen months ago, you would have gone through this entire bottle and chased it with another. You sat here with this bottle in your hands and didn't break your streak." He leaned closer to speak into Oliver's ear. "You are a better person."
Oliver's hand moved from the bridge of his nose to his forehead, rubbing it compulsively. "I'm a coward," he whispered, his voice strangled with tears.
Diggle sighed. He wrapped his arm around Oliver's shoulders, pulling him into his side. "Maybe," he admitted, and Oliver laughed.
"Thanks, Dig. You always keep it real."
"Speaking of keeping it real," he said, measuring his words, "it's not too late, you know."
Oliver scoffed. "I'd say it's a mile past too late, Dig."
Diggle shrugged. "Not until she says 'I do.'"
Oliver shook his head. "It's more complicated than that. She's pissed at me. I can't just go there and...and interrupt their wedding. This isn't the movies."
"You're gonna lose her forever, man."
Oliver shoved Diggle's arm away and shot to his feet. "You don't think I know that?" he shouted. "Fuck!" He snatched the bottle out of Diggle's hands and flung it into the bay, before collapsing to his knees, clutching at his hair.
Diggle got up and crouched down beside him. "You have to go talk to her, man. You have to try."
Oliver shook his head as he continued rocking on his knees.
Diggle stood up, equal parts angry and desperate for his friend. There was one tactic left. "On your feet, soldier," he commanded, infusing his voice with as much authority as he could muster.
Oliver's rocking ceased, and his hands fell away from his head.
"Do I need to tell you twice?" Diggle shouted.
The military training Diggle counted on kicked in, and Oliver scrambled to his feet, standing at attention before him.
Diggle got into his face. "You have survived things no one should ever experience. Men have broken your body and tried to break your soul. You will face your fears because your fears don't own you. And you owe it to Felicity to be at her wedding. To do anything less would be dishonorable."
Oliver blinked up at him, breathing heavily as Diggle's words sunk in. After a moment, he finally nodded.
Diggle backed down, relaxing his body. "Good." He laid a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "And I mean it. It's not too late."
Oliver swallowed, and nodded again.
Diggle smiled. "Let's get you to the wedding."
