First, the legalities. I do not own or claim to own the fictional characters or series that this work of fiction is based upon. All copyrights for Arrow and the characters of Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, John Diggle, and any others belong to DC Comics, CW, Marc Guggenheim, Andrew Kreisberg, and Greg Berlanti, and any other authors or entities that can lay claim to them, specifically the writing pertaining to what I have expounded upon from episode 9 of season 3, The Climb. I've merely borrowed them to take a peek into their world and play around a bit. I intend no malice; it was done purely for fun. However, the story depicted here is an original creation by me and belongs to me.
Now, that having been said, I hope you enjoy the story. This story will have several parts – probably 3-4. This is part 1.
Something Left To Fear
By N. Kelley
John Diggle reached out to punch the code into the keypad next to the door. His hand hesitated, hovering just over the keys. What was he going to find behind that door, down in the foundry? He had tried calling Felicity several times on her phone but had gotten no response. It had taken a couple of hours to find a baby-sitter for Sara. Lyla wasn't going to be happy that he had left their daughter. Sara was running a fever and fussy and Lyla had been called away on assignment by Argus. But this couldn't wait.
Felicity couldn't wait.
Something was wrong.
After Oliver left to face Ra's al Ghul—going on almost three days ago now—Felicity had told him and Roy to go home. She had said that she would call them if there was any news. Roy had argued that he didn't have any place that he needed to be, so she had told him to go keep watch over Thea, like Oliver had asked him. John had taken a little persuasion, but he had finally listened to Felicity when she had explained that she needed to be alone for a while.
She had called with news mere hours after Oliver left. It wasn't good news. Oliver hadn't taken his phone with him or given them any viable way to trace him, probably because he had been afraid that John would try to follow him. But Felicity had prepared for that contingency. When she called John, she explained that as Oliver was saying his goodbye to her, she had slipped a tracking device into his climbing bag. The bad news was that Oliver had apparently found it and disabled it because the tracking signal had been lost.
John had almost come back to the foundry right then. There had been a waver in Felicity's voice that told him she shouldn't be alone right now, but she had insisted that he stay with his family. He shouldn't have listened to her. It was wrong to let her be down here by herself right now. No matter what she had said she wanted.
He winced. This wasn't the time to beat himself up. Right now, he needed to get inside and find out why Felicity wasn't answering her phone.
Steadying his shaking hand, he punched the numbers in and pulled on the door.
When the door swung open, he frowned tensely at the dark abyss waiting for him. Had Felicity gone somewhere? The foundry was pitch black. Stepping inside, he let the door close behind him. He reached out to flick the light switch, but a light down below finally caught his eyes as they adjusted to the dark. It was the only light shining in the room.
The light inside the glass case that housed Oliver's suit.
"Felicity?" John called out, abandoning the light switches and reaching for the gun tucked away behind his back. Something wasn't right.
He listened for an answer but didn't get one. Pulling out his gun, he held it out in front of him and started quietly down the stairs. "Felicity?"
This time he heard something, just barely audible there in the dark. It sounded like someone was crying, and he took the rest of the steps two at a time. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he realized that there was something missing from inside the glass case.
Oliver's hood.
"Felicity? Is that you?"
"Go away, John," came her soft response.
John let out a relieved breath. Thank goodness. At least he knew that she was okay. "I can't do that Felicity. I shouldn't have left you alone. I'm sorry." He walked over to the case and peered around to the other side of it. Felicity was sitting on the floor—despite being in one of her cute little dresses that Oliver liked—with her knees bent and her arms wrapped tightly around them. She was cradling something in the space next to her chest and he knew that it was Oliver's hood. "Come on, let's get you up off that hard floor," he said, reaching out for her.
"Stop!" she said suddenly when he took hold of her arm, causing him to pull back in surprise. Her voice was thick and raw with pain. "Don't touch me."
"Felicity, I know you're worried. We all are. But it's too soon to think the worst. It hasn't been—"
"He's dead, John," she said flatly, keeping her eyes down and her head turned away from him.
"You can't think like that. I've seen Oliver survive a lot of things, Felicity. So have you. Have a little faith."
She shook her head and then her whole body began to tremble. John knelt down to the floor beside her and wrapped an arm around her. "Hey, come on. He'll be okay," he said, trying to infuse his words with more confidence than he felt. It was true that he had seen Oliver live through things that would have killed many other men, but he had also seen the look in Oliver's eyes when he had shaken his hand goodbye. The look was that of a man going off to face his death. Oliver had hoped to come back, but he hadn't expected to.
But John wasn't about to reveal those thoughts to Felicity. He just kept his arm around her while her shoulders shook with quiet sobs.
After a few seconds, she broke the silence. "I didn't even tell him, John."
He knew what she meant, but he prompted, "Tell him what, Felicity?"
"Just before he left, he told me that he knew two things about himself."
"Yeah?" He wanted to ask her if those two things were that Oliver was stubborn and blind because they already knew that, but levity didn't seem appropriate right now.
"He said he knew that he would do anything to save Thea, and then…" she broke off and let out a shaky breath. "And then he told me that he loved me."
"Did that surprise you?" John asked softly, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "I know he isn't the best at showing his feelings, but he doesn't care for anyone like he cares for you."
"I should have known that he was telling me because he didn't expect to win that duel. Because he didn't think he would come back. Why else would he have told me?" She buried her face in her hands. "I should have said it back," she mumbled, barely audible. "He caught me off guard, and I had been so focused on planting that tracker on him that I just stood there staring at him as he walked away." She started to cry again. "I let him go without knowing how I felt about him."
"He knew," John said gently, trying to ease her pain.
"I should have said the words," she spat out angrily, trying to pull away from him.
"Felicity, you still can."
"No, John, I can't," she said harshly, getting to her feet and turning her back to him. "Haven't you been listening to me? Oliver is dead."
John stood up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the contact and he realized it was because that was how Oliver would touch her. He pulled his hand away. "We don't know that. Not yet."
Her voice was barely a whisper as she said, "Yes, we do." She was clutching Oliver's hood in her hands, but she released it with one hand to walk over to her workstation and grab a phone that was lying next to the fern. "I got a phone call on this a few hours ago," she said, holding it out. "At least, I think it was a few. I've lost track of time down here."
He reached out and took the phone from her. It was Oliver's. She had told John that he hadn't taken the phone with him. A sick feeling settled into the pit of his stomach. "Who called, Felicity?"
She was shaking her head, balling her hands into fists as she brought them up to her mouth, one hand still gripping the hood. "Malcolm Merlyn," she said, through gritted teeth.
John felt the muscles in his body relax a little. There was no way that Merlyn could know what had happened. He wasn't an idiot, and he certainly wouldn't have risked himself by following Oliver to the site of the duel. Not even to appease his own morbid curiosity. "What did he say?"
She took in a shaky breath and when she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. "He said that he was right outside the foundry door. That he had news and had something to show me. So I let him in."
"You let Merlyn come in?" John asked sharply, looking around the room. "Felicity, he could have killed you."
She didn't respond and John let out a heavy sigh. "What did he say? What did he want to show you?"
"He walked down the steps carrying something in his hands," she told him, her voice barely audible. She turned away from him to look at the stairs. "When he got to the bottom, he said four words: Oliver Queen is dead. Then he set something on the workbench and left the foundry."
"You can't trust Merlyn. You know that. How could he possibly know what had happened? He wouldn't go anywhere near the League. He was lying."
"Not about this," she said, shaking her head softly. "Believe me, I thought the same thing. But then I went to see what he had left behind." She turned her head to look at him and then pointed at the workbench. "Look at it."
John looked over to where she was pointing. Even in the dark, he could make out the object. It was a sword. A knot formed in his stomach. "That doesn't prove anything, Felicity. Don't let him get inside your head. That's what he wants."
"That's why I decided to verify what he had told me."
The hair rose up on the back of his neck. "How did you do that?"
"I tested the sword," she said, pointing at the weapon. "Merlyn or someone had wiped it clean, but you can't get rid of blood that easily. There was still residual DNA left behind on it, enough to do a test."
John's eyes had finally adjusted to the dark enough to see her face clearly in the light coming from the case. Her eyes were red and puffy and there were long dark streaks of mascara staining her cheeks. Her bottom lip was bleeding where she had apparently bit down too hard on it. The pain in his stomach deepened.
"So I swabbed the blade and ran the DNA," she continued, staring at him almost blankly, as if she were looking through him.
John didn't know what to say. His chest had hollowed out and been replaced by a sharp pain. It hurt worse being shot with a curare-laced bullet, worse than when he had found out Lyla was locked up in a Russian prison, maybe even worse than allowing his brother's killer to walk free. It was worse because this time, there was nothing he could do to ease the pain. There was no wound to fix…no one to rescue.
It was too late for that.
He clenched his jaw together, willing his voice to remain steady and calm. "What were the results?" he asked, knowing what her answer would be.
"They were conclusive. The blood belongs to Oliver…belonged to Oliver," she said as her knees buckled under her.
John caught her before she could fall, and he lowered them both back down to the floor. "I can call Lyla. She can use her resources at Argus to find out what's happened. All that proves is that Oliver's blood is on the sword, not that Ra's killed him. Merlyn lies. He likes to play with people's emotions. We can—"
"No, John. There's nothing any of us can do. You're right, Malcolm lies, but it's been almost three days with no word. The fight is over. Oliver lost, and he's gone, and I didn't even get to say goodbye. He told me he would come back. He told me that he wouldn't face Ra's al Ghul if he didn't think he could win," she rambled, letting the words tumble out as fast as they would come. "And I foolishly let myself believe him. I actually let myself think that he had a chance against an experienced, cold-blooded killer. But Oliver isn't one…he wasn't one…not a killer, not anymore."
John wanted to comfort her; he wanted to say the right thing, but no words would come. His body was tight with shock, like someone had shot him. He needed to snap out of it. Felicity needed him to be strong.
But the tears stinging his eyes told him that was a battle that he had already lost.
The two of them sat in silence for what could have been minutes or maybe hours. Time seemed not to exist in this realm of loss. John knew he had an obligation to contact Roy. He was the last member of their team who didn't know what had happened, but John wasn't sure how he was going to tell him. That kid idolized Oliver. John didn't know if he had the strength in him to do it, yet.
Then there was Laurel. Someone would have to tell her. He wasn't even sure if she knew what was going on. Oliver hadn't mentioned whether or not he had gone to see her before he left. He looked over at Felicity. Oliver's last few moments with them had been spent with her. He shut his eyes and fought the pain in his chest. How things had changed for Oliver over the course of three years.
It seemed fitting that his last words to Felicity had been to express love for the two most important women in his life.
Thea.
How were they going to tell Thea? She didn't even know what Oliver had done. How he had protected her. She still didn't know the truth about her father, Malcolm Merlyn.
A furious rage began building inside of him, and he rose to his feet, unable to contain it.
"What are you doing?" Felicity asked timidly from her spot on the floor.
He gripped the phone that he was still holding tightly in his hand. "I'm going to call Merlyn. Oliver said he texted that video of Thea to him on his phone. You can back trace that message, Felicity. We'll use it to track him down. It's time that I paid him a visit."
Felicity stumbled to her feet in alarm. "No! You can't. I won't help you. Believe me when I say that I wish you could find him and kill him, but you aren't the Arrow, John. Oliver wouldn't want this. He wouldn't want you to risk your life like this. You have a family. Think of Sara."
"I am thinking of Sara," he said angrily. "And you and Thea and Laurel. Are any of us safe while Merlyn is still out there? He's the reason that Oliver's dead. He gave Oliver no choice but to take his place in that duel. It should have been Merlyn that died at the hands of Ra's al Ghul."
"He still has that video of Thea," Felicity said, still strong enough to push her grief aside in order to reason with him. "He told Oliver if anything happened to him, that the League would see it."
"Then what do you expect me to do?" John shouted furiously.
She flinched and John blew out a frustrated breath. "Felicity, I'm sorry." He stepped toward her and wrapped her in his arms. He was contemplating what to say next when something started to vibrate on the table behind them. "What's that?"
Felicity pulled out of his arms and walked over to the table. "It's my phone," she said, retrieving it. She glanced at the display. "It's Captain Lance." She looked up at him. "What do I do?"
John clenched his jaw tightly. They were going to have to tell people what had happened to Oliver Queen. But not tonight. "Answer it."
Her eyes went wide with shock for a moment, but then she answered it. "H-hello?" She held the phone out and pressed the speaker button so he could hear what was being said.
"He nearby?" asked Captain Lance tightly.
"Not exactly," she responded, managing to keep the tremor from her voice.
"Yeah? Well, we've got a big problem. When do you expect him back?"
She covered her mouth with the hand holding Oliver's hood and tears began streaming down her face.
John took the phone from her. He knew that she wasn't going to be able to respond, and Lance didn't need to be a part of what they were going through right now. If he found out the Arrow was dead, and then later found out that Oliver was dead. Well, it probably didn't matter anymore, but it wasn't their secret to divulge. That secret had died with Oliver Queen.
He grabbed a voice modulator from the workbench and pressed the button. "What can I help you with, Captain?"
"You okay? You sound like you might have a bit of cold or somethin'. I hope not because the city is going to need your A game tonight."
"I'm fine, Captain," John responded, doing his best to mimic Oliver. "What do you need?"
"I left a package for you in our usual spot. I'd like you to take a look at it, maybe even have Ms. Smoak take a better look at it if you know what I mean. Call me back when you've got something."
"Will do."
John hung up the phone and looked up to find Felicity watching him with wide eyes.
"You're not actually considering putting it on, are you?" she asked, looking down at the hood in her hand. She glanced over at the glass case and rubbed her chest. "We can't do this, John. Not without Oliver. We can't." She took a few quick breaths. "It wouldn't be right."
"Wouldn't it?" he prompted, his voice low and even. "What do you think Oliver would want us to do, if he could tell us, Felicity? Do you think he'd want us to abandon the city? Do you think he would want us to just give up? Or do you think he would want us to carry on in his name? Fighting for the city that he loved?"
She walked over to the case and rested her forehead against the glass, looking down at her hands. "I'm not ready to let go."
"I know," he said gently, walking up behind her. "I'll give you a few minutes. I need to go call Roy. He needs to know what's happened and he might want to come with me."
"He can't," she protested quietly. "He won't have his head on straight."
"He's going to need something to focus on, Felicity. Something to keep him occupied." He paused for a moment and then added, "We all do. I would tell you to go home, but I don't think you'll listen. I think you need to be here as much as any of the rest of us. Can I count on you to back me up?"
She nodded but didn't respond.
"It's just to help Lance. After that, we can decide together—you, me, and Roy—how best to honor Oliver. Okay?"
"Okay."
John turned and went up the steps to the club. He would give Felicity a few minutes to part with the hood, and then it was time for him to don it. It would feel strange to put it on again. He had worn it a few times before, but never without Oliver. It might be the last time that he ever put it on; then again, it might be just the first.
(To be continued…in part 2)
Thanks for reading. I always appreciate any feedback that any of you kind readers are willing to share with me. Feedback feeds my muse and my soul. This story should be 3 or 4 parts in its entirety. Don't worry, the next part won't be nearly so sad. I promise. Oliver is back in the next part. It starts up 3 months later. I want to note that the official synopsis for episode 10 is out and I've read it and I'm pleased that my little fic actually kind of fits with the synopsis. I've been writing it for 3 weeks now. I'm sure it's nothing like what will happen, but it was fun to contemplate what would happen. Hope you enjoyed the story so far. I hope to have the 2nd part up within a few days to a week.