The steel door of the Foundry slammed into place, shocking the team and grating their already frayed nerves. Diggle and Roy were on high alert, weapons drawn to the door. Out of the shadows stepped a figure they knew all too well. Nyssa lifted her black hood and cast a look between the three members of the team. Her eyes rested on Felicity and she stepped towards her. Diggle clicked the safety off of the gun, but Nyssa continued to walk until she stopped directly in front of Felicity.

"Felicity Smoak, M.I.T. class of '09." She addressed her. The assassin's eyes surveyed Felicity, searching for the slightest tick.

"Nyssa al Ghul, Heir to the Demon." Felicity stared into Nyssa's eyes.

"The death sentence over Starling City has been removed. The blood price for Ta-er al-Safer's death has been paid." Felicity's mouth opened in shock. She stepped back, clutching the metal desk behind her. It felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest; she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her eyes started watering, but tear did not fall. Nyssa tipped Felicity's chin up, forcing her to look the brunette in the eye.

"I am not so heartless that I do not mourn you for the loss of your beloved. Oliver Queen stole my beloved from me; it would have been vengeance to steal his beloved as well; however, fortunately for you, the League does not operate on vengeance, but on justice." She released Felicity's chin then began walking.

"Wait!" Nyssa stopped, and turned to look at the blonde who held fire in her eyes, a fire that reminded her of Sara. "His body, where is it?" Nyssa closed her eyes and dipped her head before looking back at her.

"It will be returned to you shortly, so that he may be buried with loving hands, as I believe Sara was buried. Know that I have convinced my father not to level Starling City to the ground, but one more display of corruption, and the League will wipe this city from memory. Also, it would behoove you to remember that Al Sa-Her is also an enemy of the League of Assassins, and we will destroy anyone who proves a challenge to his death at the hands of the League." Nyssa turned and walked out of the Foundry.

Felicity stared at the glass case, at the dark green Kevlar leather blend that stared back at her with taunting emptiness. The bow and arrows next to the suit were a haunting reminder of the person who would never again pick them up. She looked at the green fern on the metal desk and felt a dark sadness wrapping around her heart, crushing her soul until it felt as if she would never breathe again. She had never noticed how empty and lifeless the Foundry truly was, and how it would never again feel like home, because Oliver was gone, and he was never coming back. The sound of the steel door opening shocked her and she turned to see who was there; Diggle walked in with Big Belly Burgers bags and sodas and set one on her desk. Felicity looked at the bag holding delicious spoils but she couldn't muster up the energy to open it. Diggle watched her, worry clear in his eyes; he had noticed her loss of appetite, and really her loss of everything. There was an emptiness behind her eyes, the blue that had once shone brightly was a dim fragment of the glory her eyes could be, the glory her eyes had been.

It was frighteningly amazing to see the swift change in her over the past week since they had buried Oliver's body next to Sara's; she had gone from the bright sunshine of the team to the shadow haunting the corners. But what was most frightening was that she had not shed a tear. When they found out Oliver was dead, when Nyssa had appeared in the Foundry with news that Starling City's death sentence was removed, it was like a light inside of her had died as well. Felicity showed up at the Foundry, talked when she needed to, and disappeared into the night for a few hours of sleep before starting her day job, if she even slept at all when she went back to her apartment. Of all the conversations Diggle anticipated having with Felicity over Oliver, the one where he had to get her to talk after his death was not a conversation he had ever thought they would ever have.

"You need to eat."

"I already ate John." Her tone was haunting—eerie, flat and empty.

"A half-eaten granola bar and a sip of water in the past 4 hours does not constitute as eating, Felicity." She looked up at him, then at the bag of food he'd place on her desk, and then back to her computer screen. Diggle sighed then sat down in the chair next to her and unwrapped her burger.

"I don't want to eat John." Her stomach growled loudly when the smell of fresh fried food reached her nose.

"I know you don't want to, sweetie, but you need to." He handed her the burger, which she took with some reluctance. She took a bite of the burger but she didn't truly taste it. She chewed slowly then washed it down with a sip of iced tea.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Diggle asked once she had taken a few more bites. She shook her head slowly then went back to her small nibbles. John didn't know what to say; he had promised Oliver that he would take care of her, but he was at a loss at how to do that.

"Felicity, I know it's tough to lose someone you love—" He began.

"He doesn't know—he didn't know." Her ghostly voice cut him off. She corrects herself, past tense, because Oliver is dead. Diggle looked at her, confused, but waited for her to elaborate. She took another bite of her burger, chewed, then waited a few minutes before answering.

"He didn't know I love him—loved him." The grimace on her face at the tense shift was a silent marker to her rationalizing Oliver's death.

"He knew Felicity… we all knew."

"But I didn't say it John!" She flung her burger to the ground and stood up, sending her wheeled office chair crashing to the ground. A broken sob escaped her lips as she walked over to the glass cage that held the Arrow's suit and weapons. She bit the inside of her cheek in futile hopes to stifle the hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Diggle wanted to say something, to help her somehow, but he knew this was the breakdown they had all been waiting for. Felicity needed to get this out without any interference.

"We all thought Oliver was the emotionally damaged one, that he was the difficult one when it came to emotions, hiding behind the hood and the mission, but it was me. He said it, John. He admitted his feeling for me three times, and I couldn't even say it once! I was so scared, scared that if I said it just once, I would lose him, like my father, or Cooper. But I lost him anyway and now I will never get to tell him." She crumbled, collapsing to the cold concrete floor under the guilty weight. Diggle rushed to her and held her as she cried into his shoulder. She grasped the soft leather with her blunt fingernails, but it was wrong. The scent, the feel of the leather, the arms surrounding her, the voice telling her that everything was going to be ok, it was all wrong, because it would never again be Oliver's scent, or Oliver's leather suit or jacket, or Oliver's arms, or Oliver's voice. He was gone. Oliver was gone.