Title: Lost in the Memory
Author: Some1LostMe
Rating: M
Summary: Oliver Queen returns to his home in Star City after a five year tour overseas, much to the delight of his friends and family. There's just one small problem. The injury that effectively ended his military career also erased a part of his memory. As he struggles to put together the missing pieces of his past, his connection to his best friend's little sister becomes something he can't avoid. Who is Felicity Merlyn and why can't he seem to stay away from her? Olicity AU, no Arrow, no island.
A/N: A couple of things. First, I didn't mean to start another AU. Not at all. But this is an adaptation of an original work that I wrote ages ago and once the idea got a hold of me, I couldn't stop. The good news is this fic is finished. I'll be posting twice a week, Monday and Thursday like clockwork, until all twenty-six chapters are up. Second thing, I'm going to dig back into Mark and the Angel and An Arrow Thru It now that I'm finished with this. Honestly, I don't know which one I'll focus on first. I'd love to say that I will be working on them both at once but I can't promise that. Lastly, as always, a HUGE thank you to my beta westernbeauty. She is truly incredible and the best support / cheerleader that I could ask for. I look forward to hearing from all of you, lovely readers, so please leave a review!
Chapter One
"Run, Ollie, run!"
Oliver laughed as he raced down Crescent Hill with Felicity slung across his back. Her unruly blonde curls trailed on the wind, billowing like a cape behind her.
"Ollie, slow down!" Tommy called as he chased after them.
But Oliver ignored his friend's warning. Felicity giggled uncontrollably, the sound like a melody as it rang in his ears. He galloped down the steep incline, whinnying like a horse and making his rider laugh harder.
"Charge!"
The bell above the door tinkled, signaling the arrival of new patrons, pulling Felicity from the memory, and she called out without looking up.
"Welcome to Verdant. Grab a seat and I'll be right with you."
She finished wiping down the bar, stacking clean glasses on the lower shelf before she straightened and looked around. They were pretty steady for a Friday night, nearly every table in the place was occupied, and Felicity searched for the new arrivals.
"Okay, who's the hottie that just walked in?"
Felicity turned and shook her head, a grin lighting up her face. She didn't know who Iris was referring to but she wasn't shocked by the comment. Her friend-slash-bartender was determined to find a man for her. According to Iris, every woman needed a man like Barry Allen in her life.
Without replying to Iris' inquiry, she turned to scan the dining room. When her eyes landed on the door, she was surprised to find Moira Queen standing just inside the threshold, her wide eyes fixed on Felicity. It took a long moment for her to realize that Moira hadn't come alone and she forced her gaze to the man beside her.
The noise that escaped Felicity's lips sounded as painful as it felt, drawing the attention of the couple sitting closest to her at the bar.
"Felicity? What is it?"
John and Lyla Diggle had been her friends for as long as she could remember. They'd been regular customers at Verdant since her parents had opened the place years earlier. Lyla had even babysat Felicity as a child.
She couldn't find her voice quickly enough to give him an answer. Instead, she found herself moving silently through the room, her feet carrying her toward the man who had just walked back into her life.
"Ol – Oliver?" she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes and she stepped into him.
"Felicity, wait –"
Oliver Queen stood in the circle of her arms, every muscle in his body stiff with tension. She took a step back, panic and confusion clouding her already muddled mind.
"I'm sorry, it's – I –"
The sad smile on Moira's face caused a tiny fracture to form in Felicity's heart. Oliver stood beside his mother, staring down at her with a confusion that echoed within her ten-fold. He looked older than he had the last time that she'd laid eyes on him but so much about his appearance was exactly the same. His six-foot-two frame was nothing but well toned muscle, his skin darkened by the sun. The bright eyes that she often dreamed about burned as he watched her. It was clear that he was waiting for her to say something.
She was spared the trouble, however, when Moira's hand came to rest on his forearm.
"Oliver, dear, this is Felicity Merlyn. She's grown up here in Starling City, as well. You were friends with her brother, Tommy. You remember Tommy Merlyn, right?"
Recognition flashed in his eyes.
"He was my best friend, Mom. Of course I remember."
Moira looked to Felicity, keeping her voice even, and asked, "But you don't remember Felicity?"
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face, and she felt the fracture turn into a fissure. She suddenly couldn't breathe.
"Why don't you go and find us a table, dear?" Moira prompted, "I need a word with Felicity."
Oliver nodded and lifted his hand to her in a stilted wave.
"It was nice to meet you, Felicity. Again."
She allowed herself to watch him as he made his way to a booth at the back of the room before turning to Moira. The confusion she felt morphed quickly into panic. She shook her head, unable to fully believe what she'd just experience.
"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," his mother said, reaching for her hand, "We should've told you sooner. He appeared on our doorstep two days ago and Robert and I we – well we were stunned. We had no idea what to do or why he was home. Robert made a call to his commanding office."
She grasped Moira's fingers tightly.
"He – he doesn't know who I am? He didn't even know my name. I – Oliver's been away for five years and now… I have known that man for my entire life and he has no idea who I am?"
The flood of emotions that she felt threatened to overwhelm her. A lump had formed in her throat, her chest tightening, but she fought to keep her tears at bay. She felt a dozen sets of eyes on her back and the idea of having an audience when she finally fell apart made her stomach turn.
"There are quite a few things that Oliver doesn't remember," Moira explained, "Felicity, he has selective amnesia."
"I'm sorry? He has – he what?"
Disbelief slammed into her like a freight train. She cast a glance to the booth where he sat reading a menu.
"His memories are distorted, fragmented. He remembers Robert and I but not the manor. We've lived in that house since the day that he was born yet he couldn't find his way to his bedroom when he returned home. The doctors that we've spoken to have attributed the amnesia to a traumatic brain injury that he sustained a few months ago. They haven't been able to tell us when or if his memories will come back."
Felicity swallowed hard and fought against the tears clawing their way up her throat.
"I'm sorry. I know this must be awful for you, too, and I'm being incredibly selfish right now," she muttered, "He – he's okay otherwise, right? Physically, I mean? You said that he was injured?"
Moira took Felicity's face between her hands.
"Felicity, honey, you have every right to be upset by this. Oliver is your –"
She pulled away and shook her head.
"No, I – no. Please don't. He has no idea who I am."
Moira pulled Felicity into her arms and she let a minimal number of tears slip free. She had waited five long years for Oliver to come home to her. She had dreamed of the moment they'd meet again, she'd imagined a hundred times over what it would feel like to be in his arms again. But this scenario wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare. Her worst nightmare. She couldn't imagine anything more painful.
"He isn't dead, sweetheart."
Felicity sighed. She hadn't meant to say any of it aloud. She withdrew from his mother, crossing her arms over her chest and casting her eyes to the floor.
"I know. I know. We have to be thankful for that."
Moira took her hand again and squeezed reassuringly.
"I'm going to join him before he gets antsy and comes back over here."
She nodded and watched as Moira made her way across the dining room to her son. And she wasn't the only one. It seemed that most of the patrons in Verdant had witnessed the exchange between herself and the Queen matriarch and were now eyeing Oliver curiously.
Felicity cast a glance around the room, leveling a glare at some of her usual customers, most of whom had fallen silent. Her look did the trick as the room suddenly erupted with the sounds of idle chatter. She stepped back behind the bar, swiping her fingers below her eyes to clear the last of her tears.
"Oliver's back," John stated, his dark eyes studying her seriously.
Felicity nodded, "He is."
"You don't seem too happy about that. What was that all about, Felicity? With Mrs. Queen?"
She forced a smile to her face and attempted to keep her composure.
"It was nothing. And of course I'm happy. I couldn't be happier. These are happy tears."
The look on her friend's face let her know that he didn't believe her for a minute but Felicity didn't have time to explain. She was working. She was busy. She didn't have time for another breakdown.
Taking a steadying breath she braced herself and crossed to the table that Oliver and his mother occupied.
"Are you ready to order?"
Moira's eyes conveyed her concern as she looked up from her menu. Felicity was grateful that she chose not to comment, instead ordering one of the staples that Sara – Felicity's chef and best friend - had perfected over the years. She turned to Oliver.
"And for you?"
He stared at her for a long moment.
"What's wrong, dear?" Moira asked when he'd yet to order.
He shook his head, tearing his eyes from Felicity and glancing at his mother. He smiled.
"Nothing. I was just –"he turned back to her, "We were friends, weren't we?"
Felicity felt her cheeks heat.
"You could say that. We've – we've known each other for a long time. You and Tommy were friends before I was even born."
He continued to study her as if taking in every inch of her face would somehow jog his memory of her. And maybe it could but she couldn't take the way that his eyes made her feel. Not now. Her control was already slipping.
She cleared her throat.
"What can I get you, Oliver?"
He ordered a cheeseburger with a side of fries.
"Hold the pickles and an Arrow IPA, right?"
He sat back in the booth and a small smile tugged at his lips. He nodded.
"I guess we really were friends."
She flushed again, her eyes falling to the order pad that she clutched in her hand. She didn't need to write any of it down.
"I'll – I'll have this out to you soon."
Keeping her head down, Felicity wove her way through the tables and took refuge in the kitchen. When the swinging door had settled behind her, she buried her face in her hands and let out a single sob.
For so long everything that she had done, she'd done knowing that he would come back to her. She had moved through her day to day life carrying with her the knowledge that Oliver would be back. That she wouldn't always be alone. She had waited patiently for the day that he would come back home to Star City and breathe life back into her world. And of all of the awful things that she had imagined happening to him, amnesia hadn't been something she'd thought to fear. Death and life-changing injuries, those were the things that she'd been worried about. Felicity couldn't decide what was worse. Of course she was relieved that he was alive, that he'd returned relatively unscathed. But he had no memory of her. Of what she'd been to him. It was as if she didn't exist in Oliver's world anymore.
"Felicity? What happened? What's wrong?"
She hadn't heard Sara come back into the kitchen. She'd been outside talking to Nyssa when Felicity had taken shelter there. Her friend stood before her, her bright blue eyes clouded with worry, and Felicity almost flung herself into Sara's arms. Until the sound of a little girl's voice – a voice that she lived with every day – cut through her like a knife.
She stared at Sara wide-eyed, holding her breath until –
"Uncle Ollie?"
She gasped and spun on her heel, darting back into the dining room.
"Thea, wait!" she called.
But she was too late. Thea was only a couple a couple of feet from the table, her little face lit up like a Christmas tree at the sight of Oliver and Moira.
Felicity moved unconsciously toward them, her hands already reaching for her little girl.
"Thea, baby, come here," she urged, praying that she would, for once in her eleven year existence, listen. But it was too much to hope for.
"Uncle Ollie!"
Thea practically launched herself into the booth beside him and looped her arms around his neck. Oliver stilled for half a second before enveloping her small frame in his muscular arms. Fresh tears burned in Felicity's eyes and she blinked them away. She stepped closer to the table.
Oliver moved Thea until she was sitting tucked against his side. He ruffled her dark hair playfully and grinned at her.
"Wow! You've gotten so tall!" he teased, "How old are you now, like thirty?"
Thea rolled her eyes, smiling broadly.
"I'm just eleven."
He shook his head.
"Just eleven, huh? Well you look just like your dad, do you know that? He had that same dark hair and I know I've seen that nose before," Oliver told her, making her blush.
Felicity felt lightheaded. He remembered Thea. Thea who had only been six years old when he'd gone away. She felt her knees grow weak.
"Honey, why don't you sit for a minute?"
It took longer than it should have for her to realize that Moira's words were directed at her. She stumbled forward and slid into the booth beside her.
"You – you remember her," she muttered, dumbfounded.
Oliver shrugged, "Tommy talked about her all the time. He always had her picture on him. Are you still playing softball? Your dad and I played baseball when we were your age."
Thea's grin brightened.
"I'm on second base," she told him proudly.
"Yeah? That's awesome! Have you ever been to a Red Sox game?"
She shook her head, "Not yet! But Aunt Felicity said she's going to take me next season if I do good in school this year."
Oliver looked between Thea and Felicity.
"She looks a little like you, too," he observed, "But you and Tommy… you don't look anything alike. You look like your mom."
She blinked, her heart suddenly galloping against her ribs.
"You remember my mom?"
Oliver shook his head slowly.
"No, I – not exactly. It's just something I think Tommy said when Thea was born."
Felicity looked away and tried to grasp desperately for her control as it frayed. Oliver had actually been the one to note Thea's resemblance to Felicity. She had only been a baby then but it was clear that she'd be small, slim and short. She'd definitely inherited the Smoak cheekbones, too. And Felicity couldn't deny the similarities in their personalities.
She slid out of the booth and cleared her throat.
"Thea, why don't you go sit with Lyla and John and I'll have Sara make you a grilled cheese before we head home? Let's leave Uncle Ollie and Gram Moira to their dinner."
Her niece stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.
"Aunt Nyssa already made me dinner at her house," she countered, "Why can't I stay here?"
She batted long, dark eyelashes at Oliver's mom and Felicity knew that there was no point in starting a war she'd never win. Moira smiled at her gently.
"It's alright. I'll keep an eye on her."
She nodded, backing away from the table.
"Okay. Well… someone will be over with your order in just a minute."
It was difficult to ignore the looks and quiet whispers that followed her back through the room on her way to the kitchen. She heard mentions of her brother's name, her mother's too, and that fissure in her heart began to spread, to deepen into an impossibly large canyon. She had already lost too many people in her life and Felicity couldn't help but wonder if she'd lost Oliver, too.