Holy moly! I was not expecting the response I got for this fic! It's been insane receiving all the emails about your alerts/favorites/reviews. I appreciate it all so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

So, obviously, I've decided to continue this fic. Right now, it's still looking like it'll be four parts in total. So this is part 2. You get a little bit more of Roy in this chapter, as well as some Laurel. Ray and Thea will be coming next chapter.

Again, I don't own any of the characters from Arrow. Nor do I own the lyrics used.

Enjoy

xoxoxoNelly

So many

Bright lights, they cast a shadow

But can I speak?

Well is it hard understanding

I'm incomplete

Roy was staring a hole into her head. His eyes had been fixed on her for the past five minutes, ever since she had filled him in on Nyssa's visit earlier that morning.

Diggle was silent, his hands forming a steeple in front of his mouth where he sat in Felicity's office chair.

She was pretty certain Roy was waiting for her to crumble to pieces, but she already had, in Diggle's arms after the words had rushed out of her mouth just moments after she'd dropped the bomb of Oliver's death being confirmed by the next best source besides Ra's himself.

Finally, Roy glanced away, his hands running through his hair. "Where do we go from here?" His voice was rough with his own emotions. Oliver was his mentor, his only family, one of the few people in his life who had looked at him and seen more than what was just presented at the surface.

Felicity's eyes met Diggle's as he glanced over his hands at her. It was a fair question, but she wasn't certain yet if she had an answer to it. Her mind had barely wrapped itself around Oliver's death, she couldn't even begin to think of what would happen next. How would she move on from Oliver? She was in love with him.

"I mean, do we retaliate. Do we kill someone from the League because they killed one of our own? Do we dissolve the team? Do we keep going on like none of this ever happened and pretend Oliver never existed?" He paused before cursing softly, "shit, what do we tell Thea?"

Felicity had been wondering the same thing since she had regained her sanity after her tearful breakdown. She crossed her arms over her chest, turning on her bare heel and looking at Roy.

He was fraying at the edges.

Without another word she approached him, pulling him into a hug, her arms going around his shoulders and she pulled his head against her chest, petting his hair softly as the tears silently seeped from his eyes, dotting the gray tank top she was wearing. He sank against her, his strength leeching out of him as soon as she embraced him. There was something about knowing someone was there to catch you that allowed you to truly fall apart, and in that moment, Felicity was willing to catch Roy.

"For now, we don't tell Thea," Felicity whispered against Roy's hair. He straightened slightly, his eye's finding Felicity's.

"Then what do we tell her?"

Felicity was silent for a moment as she thought about their options. "She doesn't know Sara is dead. We can tell her Oliver is visiting Sara." Felicity suggested and Roy nodded before hugging her tightly once more.. He was grateful for not having to come up with a lie to tell Thea. It would be hard enough to tell her the lie, he didn't want to have to fabricate it as well. However, he knew one day they would have to tell Thea and that thought scared him more than anything else.

Over the top of Roy's head Felicity met Diggle's eyes. The older man nodded solemnly before he stood and approached them, laying a hand on each of their shoulders.

"As for things regarding the Arrow, we continue Oliver's mission, as he would have wanted. This was always bigger than him, it became bigger than him when he brought all of us into the fold. We're his insurance that even if something happened to him, justice would be carried out by those he trusted." He squeezed their shoulders, "now it is our responsibility to protect Starling City."

She pulled back from Roy after another moment, swiping her thumb down his cheek to remove the tear tracks that had been lining his face, "Digg is right," she said and Roy nodded.

"I'll wear the suit for a while, until Roy feels he's ready to take up the mantle," Digg said, his voice suddenly soft. Felicity nodded.

"Does this mean Felicity will become Arsenal after I take over as the Arrow?" Roy's tone was an attempt at being flippant but it wasn't very successful. However, to keep the situation from darkening further, both Felicity and Diggle forced smiles onto their faces.

"I don't think the suit will look half as good on me," Felicity joked back, her voice cracking even though she tried to make it project evenly.

Diggle pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he patted Roy on the back and then stepped away from the both of them to silently grieve his friend alone.

~ x ~ o ~ x ~ o ~ x ~

Someone was dragging him through the snow. He couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, but they didn't have the upper body strength to carry him across their shoulders or back so they were resorting to dragging him. He was tethered to some sort of sled contraption and being dragged through the darkness to God-knows-where.

"Who are you?" He croaked.

"Be silent," a voice whispered back through the flurries of snow. "Silence will save your life."

Then all was black once more and he was silent.

~ x ~ o ~ x ~ o ~ x ~

She wasn't sure what had driven her to drink, but she was certainly glad she wasn't drinking alone.

"You really don't think there's some way he survived?" Diggle asked, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass of vodka.

"I guess you can never rule it out when it comes to Oliver. How many times has he managed to cheat death?" She returned, leaning back in her seat.

However, her heart wasn't in her words. It had been two weeks already. If he was alive, he would've found his way back by now by some mode of transport or another. The most likely scenario was that he had truly died in his battle against Ra's al Ghul. Felicity refused to delude herself with fantasies of a dramatic survival where Oliver would reveal himself as alive months later. She couldn't count on that, because all the odds were against it. She needed to be realistic, and she was trying, that's why she was training, that's why they were continuing to keep up appearances by the Arrow, that's why they had told Thea that Oliver was just out backpacking with Sara for a while, that's why they told Laurel was tracking a criminal outside the city.

"Too many." When Diggle responded, she had almost forgotten she'd even asked a question.

When she met Digg's eyes, she knew that he knew she had no faith in Oliver surviving. Which was sad really, because she loved Oliver, and she had always believed in him doing the impossible—being the hero, putting an end to his killing, defeating Slade, killing Ra's al Ghul. But she'd been wrong to believe he could defeat Ra's. She knew that now. She knew better than the believe the impossible could happen. Oliver was dead, she had to move on.

Felicity murmured her agreement before taking another sip of the burning alcohol. "I think we need to be realistic. There's no sense in waiting for him to magically reappear. We can't stop living and just wait for him because he may never return. I've spent enough time sitting in one place in life, stuck."

"Does that mean you'll move on?" Diggle didn't need to elaborate more, she knew exactly what he was asking. Would she move on from loving Oliver? And if she did, would it be with Ray Palmer? Or some other man in her future that she had yet to meet?

Ray Palmer. He had been the farthest thing from her mind for the past two weeks since Oliver's death had been confirmed. The thought of her moving on with Ray Palmer caused her chest to ache with a sadness and a nostalgia. A longing for something that had never even happened. A sadness for the love she and Oliver would never get to revel in together.

They hadn't even gotten together, and yet she knew she would never love a man like she loved Oliver Queen.

She set her glass down on the med table, which they were seated at, and sighed, "I don't know Digg. Right now. I need to focus on becoming what the city needs."

There was a wry smile on his face, "you sound like him."

She paused and replayed the words she had just spoken, shocking herself in the process. She sounded exactly like Oliver. Actually, she was pretty certain that exact sentence had left Oliver's mouth at one time or another. She glanced up at Diggle, looking as shocked as she felt, whereas Diggle didn't look surprised at all.

"I guess it's fitting," Diggle said in an exhale. A sigh, yet not quite a sigh. It was like a breath of acquiescence, like he had realized this sort of thing would happen but all along he'd been hoping his gut instinct was wrong. Now, the inevitable was coming into reality and he was accepting it. Whatever it was.

"What's fitting?" She asked, turning her head to look at him better, her pony tail falling over her shoulder before she flicked behind her once more.

"That you become our leader now that Oliver is gone," his voice quivers at the last word, the remnant of how affected they are by Oliver's death still exposing themselves every now and again.

"I don't know if I'm leader material," she said, pushing herself to her feet with her palms pressed flat to the tabletop. She turned and walked away, as she did she let her fingers trail along the smooth framework of Oliver's bow. She stopped, eyes staring at the salmon ladder. It felt like just yesterday she'd been watching Oliver climb up it's rungs, her gaze admiring his body as it rippled with it's incredible power. The incredible power that had been diminished and overpowered so easily. He was human, they all were human.

"We've haven't trained yet today," she said, turning back to Digg.

"I don't think either of us is sober enough for a real training session." Diggle said, truly sighing this time, like he knew his words wouldn't deter her in the slightest.

"I'm not drunk." She began to stretch, raising her arms above her head and twisting her torso to loosen her unused muscles, "and neither are you Digg."

She'd got him. He wasn't drunk, not even close to being any form of inebriated. He was just aware of how fragile they both were in that moment. It was close to dawn, they'd been in the foundry all night after a mission that had almost gone dangerously awry. They had sent Roy home, but they both had stayed, deciding on a night cap that evolved into a night of reminiscing and discussing the future of the team.

"Fine," the word came out as yet another sigh—he was doing that a lot nowadays—and he stood from his seat.

The club above them was eerily silent, it's patrons having already had their last call and drifted out into the streets of Starling City, piling into cabs or falling into beds, but in the silent foundry two friends circled each other on the training mats.

"Hand to hand," he said. "Best of three, standard pin." He slid his feet and sunk into a fighter's stance, "ladies first."

Suddenly glad she'd worn her contacts that day she smirked, raising her hands and forming fists with them, ignoring the voice inside her head that said she was too much of a klutz to really take on John Diggle. Shoving that voice inside, she ran at Digg, throwing a punch which he dodged before she swung back around with a knee aimed for his abdomen. Catching her knee he turned his shoulder toward her to protect himself from another blow. Chopping his arm at the inside of his elbow to loosen his grip on her knee she twisted and, while he was still twisted and off balance, swept his legs out from under him.

He rolled through the fall and to his feet before she could pin him but when he spun to face her again he was breathing heavily and she was still smirking.

~ x ~ o ~ x ~ o ~ x ~

"Where are we?"

His voice was hoarse from disuse. The few times he had awoke he hadn't uttered a word, remembering the voice's warning to remain silent.

But now, they were out from the snowstorm, inside a damp cave, a fire raging against the opposite wall from the one he was propped up against. He was trying to place together whether his experience in the green water was real or just a nightmare that he had encountered as he neared death.

"Somewhere the League won't find you." The voice replied, and now that his mind was no longer sleep-addled and pain ridden Oliver could tell the voice was feminine.

"Who are you?"

"You ask too many questions for a dead man."

A corner of his mouth tilted upward, "but I'm not dead."

"Exactly." A shadowy figure crossed his field of vision, but already consciousness was blurring the edges of his sight, "now sleep, Oliver Queen. Your soul is still busy tethering itself back to your body."

~ x ~ o ~ x ~ o ~ x ~

"Thea's been asking questions. I can't keep lying to her." Roy said as he came down the steps into the foundry. The dark circles under his eyes were unbearably prominent and Felicity wished she knew how to ease his pain, or make the process of grieving easier for him.

Felicity looked up at him from where the side of her fist was planted into the extended arm of the Wing Chun dummy. Roy stared at her for a moment, possibly in disbelief that she was using the dummy, and properly at that. She ran through the choreographed circuit once more before straightening up.

Diggle was standing a few feet from her, arms crossed over his chest and a proud smirk on his lips.

Felicity stepped back from the dummy, sweat rolling down between her shoulder blades as she placed her hands on her hips. "She can only accept the excuse that he's visiting Sara for so long," Felicity said, pointing out the obvious, "eventually it just won't be believable that he's still visiting Sara without calling. Fake text messages can only go so far."

"Do we tell her the truth?" Diggle's voice entered the conversation as he uncrossed his arms and approached Felicity as Roy neared her as well. They were both looking at her for the answers, over the past week it had become more and more obvious that they were turning to her as the leader of their team.

"And what would the truth be?"

Felicity, Diggle and Roy all turned to the voice that had suddenly reverberated throughout the foundry.

Laurel stood at the top of the stairs, her hands gripping the railing of the landing, knuckles turning white, as she looked down at the three teammates of the Arrow, "where is Oliver?"

The three shared a look before Roy mumbled an excuse and slipped away toward the back of the foundry. Diggle stepped closer to Felicity, silently offering to talk to Laurel but she held up a hand to stop him. As the unofficial new leader of the team, it was her responsibility to deal with Laurel.

"I'll handle this," she murmured before she flicked her eyes up at the suit hanging in its glass case, "the Arrow needs to make an appearance tonight."

Diggle leaned back on his heels and then nodded before turning and beginning to suit up without another word.

"What's going on?" Laurel asked as she made her way down the staircase with a purpose in her high-heeled stride. Felicity couldn't hide the unimpressed look on her face as Laurel faced her with squared shoulders and a dangerous glint in her eye. Felicity was aware that Laurel was training—with a former vigilante at that—and she was not as deluded as Oliver had been about the situation. Felicity knew exactly what Laurel was doing, hell, she was doing the same thing. But Felicity wasn't doing it for revenge.

Laurel would take up the Canary mantle. As Felicity was doing with Oliver's legacy. She wouldn't be the Arrow, but she would be his partner when Roy took up the Hood.

With a heavy sigh, Felicity motioned for Laurel to take a seat, which the woman did, crossing her legs prettily as she fixed Felicity with a hard stare, waiting for the blond to begin. Laurel was an amalgamation of so many cliché contradictions that she made Felicity's head spin whenever she needed to speak with her.

"The League of Assassins were tired of waiting for Oliver to find out who Sara's murderer was."

Laurel blinked at the woman before her but stayed silent.

"Oliver was adamant about protecting Malcolm Merlyn, for his sister." Felicity glanced away for just a moment before letting her blue eyes slide back to Laurel, "Ra's al Ghul challenged Oliver to a duel." The whole thing sounded so ridiculous and hilariously medieval in her head. But it wasn't ridiculous, or hilarious or medieval—it was her reality, a reality she had to face every morning that she woke up without Oliver next to her. Another day spent without his smile, or his intense eyes, or his scarred body, or his sense of uncontrollable self-sacrifice and lack of self-preservation.

"And?" Laurel pressed, eyes narrowing, some of her perfectly curled hair falling into her face which she brushed away. Felicity watched the movement of the woman's hand, cataloging the bones and muscle and tendon in the appendage like she'd been studying with Diggle, to be more effective in a fight, to know how to properly and efficiently take down an opponent smartly and not just rely on luck—but skill and intelligence.

"Oliver left to fight Ra's al Ghul a month ago."

Laurel's mouth dropped open, "a-a month?"

Felicity said nothing as she let the brunette process this news. At the shock that was evident on Laurel's face, Felicity realized that she, Diggle and Roy had been quite convincing in their story of Oliver being out of town. Many Thea wasn't as unconvinced as Roy made it sound, maybe they could keep up the facade for just a bit longer.

"Oh god," Laurel's throat constricted painfully, a sob threatening to escape. Felicity remembered the day where she had reacted the same as Laurel. It seemed so long ago now. A month since she had let herself crumble. She'd only allowed herself a day before she began to pick up the pieces of herself. She wondered how long Laurel would lay a broken mess before she either turned to the bottle or decided to get stronger like Felicity had. Felicity was still uncertain about how strong Laurel really was. She wasn't Sara, that much she could tell, and Sara was incredibly strong. It didn't mean Laurel was necessarily weak, though.

"He's dead, isn't he? He's dead too, just like Sara." Laurel gasped out the words, eyes widening as she stared at nothing.

Felicity's gaze softened but she didn't confirm nor deny Laurel's words. To give the woman a few moments, Felicity stood and retrieved a bottle of water, placing it down on the edge of the desk next to Laurel before she walked back to the Wing Chun dummy and began to run through the circuit of intricate blocks and strikes. A part of her hoped Laurel would just leave to grieve on her own. She hoped Laurel didn't expect her to fall into tears along with her.

Once upon a time, maybe two months ago, Felicity would have joined Laurel in her sobbing. But in the month that had passed so much had change for Felicity, so much had changed inside of Felicity. She was not invincible, no—there were still moments where she broke down and felt like her old self—but it was no longer her gut response to be the damsel, to be helpless, to cry when things didn't go her way.

She was aware of Laurel approaching after several moments had passed. Her shoulder's tensed without her meaning them to.

"You've been training, too." Laurel said, her voice despondent as she watched the muscles in Felicity's arms flex and relax—before they were a modest size but nothing impressive—now they were evidently defined and gave away the existence of the power hidden beneath her skin. A power she had been honing, a power she now relied upon as her foundation to keep her standing, a power she was using as a crutch to hold up her broken heart and family.

Felicity stopped, pressing her palm flat against the core of the dummy and glanced up at Laurel. "We've decided to continue Oliver's mission, even if he isn't coming back."

"I want in." There wasn't even a pause between Felicity's sentence and Laurel's response, it was automatic and that is what made Felicity pause.

Felicity turned away from Oliver's former paramour, picking up a towel and threading it around her neck, wiping the sweat from her brow. "I don't think Oliver would have wanted that."

"He wouldn't have wanted you involved in this either. Yet you're training to go out into the field." Laurel's tone was accusatory and Felicity knew the woman had a point, and that she herself was being a bit hypocritical.

"I've been involved in this a lot longer than you have. Oliver chose to let me in on this life." Immediately after the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. She knew she shouldn't have said them, she was letting her anger and frustration get the better of her. She sighed before turning back to face the brunette, who looked just as frustrated and angry as Felicity felt.

"He may have chosen to bring you into the team, but I'm in on the secret too. I've been helping the Arrow for months now."

There was so many things Felicity wanted to say in return, like how Laurel had once been behind a task force designed to apprehend Oliver and imprison him. She wanted to point out to Laurel how impatient and impetuous she was as a person, how she had a penchant for leaning on bad habits, how she didn't know how to stop monitor her own decisions and determine if they are smart or not.

But she didn't say any of those things.

"Laurel," Felicity started but the brunette cut her off.

"You sound just like him!" She threw out her hands, "I've been training longer than you have. I'm more prepared for this." She looked like a child throwing a fit when she didn't get her way.

"You don't get it Laurel. Your heart isn't in the right place for you to fight alongside this team. You are in this for the revenge." Felicity said, her voice strong, her back straight as she faced the woman Oliver had once loved.

"And you're not?" Laurel shot back.

"No, I'm not training so that I can take on the League for killing Oliver. I'm not trying to avenge Sara's death, because she deserves to finally know peace. I'm doing this because it has been Oliver's mission to return Starling City to the state it was in before the corruption took over. I am doing this to make Oliver's city better, like he vowed to do. I am not going to let him break his vow because he died, I will accomplish what he can no longer do. In his memory."

Felicity whipped around and stalked off to her desk, leaning her palms on the flat surface as she hunched over her screens, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill over. Her breath was coming in short gasps now, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut away the pain that was quickly beginning to overtake her.

"He loved you." Laurel's voice was small and fragile and quivering.

"And I loved him. But he doesn't know that, because I never told him." Her greatest regret spilled out of her mouth before she could stop it. She hadn't shared this secret with Diggle, but something in her wanted to last out at Laurel. Really, she just wanted the truth to be out there, she wanted someone else to know how terrible she felt for never telling Oliver how she felt. He was so emotionally shut off, yet he had told her he loved her like it was the easiest thing he had ever done in his life.

And she had said nothing.

"He knew." Laurel whispered, "he knew."

That didn't make Felicity feel any better. Nothing Laurel said could make her feel better.

~ x ~ o ~ x ~ o ~ x ~

"You're from the League." Oliver's voice was a bitter rasp now, and he could stay conscious for longer periods of time. During his moments of wakefulness he watched the lithe figure move about the cave, which they had stayed in for the past few days while she waited for his soul to "finish tethering." He was still trying to decipher those words.

She paused where she was crouched, adding more kindling to the fire. She turned dark, almond shape eyes on him, outlined in black kohl. "What would make you say that?" She asked, her voice lightly accented.

"The dagger in your belt. It's design, I've seen it before on League members."

"I could have stolen it from the body of a League member I killed."

"But you didn't."

She turned her face away from him again. "What else can you tell about me, Oliver Queen?" She asked as she stood to her feet.

"You're a mix of Middle-Eastern and Asian descent," he said, pushing himself to sit up straighter against the cave wall. "You're familiar with the area."

She nodded once as she moved over to a burlap bag she had been carrying on the sled with him. From the bag she pulled out a wrapped slab of dried meat and some nuts and dried fruits. She divided half of the food into two equal portions, one of which she handed to Oliver.

"For some reason you don't want me dead. Either you have use for me, or you like to spite the Demon," Oliver said, looking up into her face as he took the offered food from her.

She lifted a thin brow at him, "or possibly both. Now eat, Oliver Queen, your body is still recovering from it's journey through the pit."

A life that's so demanding

I get so weak

A love that's so demanding

I can't speak

So that was a bit longer than the last one.

Reviews are my lifeblood... please keep me going! xo