Naturally Felicity is the one to unmake the mess that's Oliver's life after Moira's death. Because that's what she does, she makes his problems go away. Not because she has to but because that's what you do for the one you love, even if they don't know. And by God she loves him so much it becomes hard to breath sometimes.

Oliver though, he is completely clueless. Moira has warned her, had told her that her son didn't know about love. At least not the kind Felicity offers, the unconditional one. But back to the subject at hand, she can't wrap her mind around the fact that Oliver has a kid. One that he doesn't know of but a kid nonetheless. She had found the papers when she offered to pack Moira's things after her death.

Her eyes run over the documents right before her again and again. Oliver has a son, or at least that's what they say so and if she judges by the picture of the four year old? He looks exactly like his father. Her heart clenches at the image, an image she hoped would be her future with him. Foolish one might call it but something she wanted desperately.

But apparently someone else beat her to this side of his life too.

It's obvious that he was no idea about it and for a moment she thinks maybe it's better to leave him blissfully unaware of the fact. The thought is shot down the next moment, she's not that kind of girl. He has a right to know, he has a duty to the child. She takes a deep breath as she gathers the papers.

They need to talk.