Chapter 2

It was quarter to three in the morning, and Felicity found herself wondering to an empty playground, the shapes of seesaws and merry-go-rounds illuminated by the moon's light. She scurried away from the Foundry, leaving Slade inside after their brief yet emotionally drenching face to face encounter.

She said she needed time, and when he merely nodded she was mildly astonished. As far as fiery tempers went, from what she gathered so far, his happened to be particularly bad. She expected that he'll go for 'take it or leave it; five seconds remaining' approach. Instead, he told her to take her time. She huffed at that, but otherwise remained silent.

Felicity slowly sat down on the swing in the middle of the play area. She doubted anyone bothered to check if Slade was still inside his prison. As far as they knew, he was still too heavily sedated to try anything. She had no clue whether he would remain there or wonder off, but what she did know was that she would be seeing him soon. Granted a choice, but was it really? You could hardly call the ultimatum needing a decision that would leave you pondering for hours, wondering if it is the right one.

She swung her legs up and the swing pushed through the air. She realised that although she would be saving Oliver, she would lose him too. Her eyes welled with tears at the thought. She was proving pretty useless in her recent attempts at tracking Oliver's nemeses and keeping the team under the radar so maybe everybody would see some good sides of the situation.

Felicity stayed on the swing for few more minutes, her thoughts galloping just like the breeze through her hair, letting loose strands escape her ponytail. Where would he take her? She didn't know what to expect; more god forsaken islands to which everything seemed to always bounce back to, or what you could call a completely normal life if you squinted really hard? A single tear of frustration rolled down her cheek.

"I got what I always wanted, huh?" Only some part of her screamed she didn't. The faint memories she had of her father from before hadn't left her prepared for the return of a man that was willing to take what really mattered to her, and place it far from her reach. Oliver promised her the day she revealed Moira's secret, that she wouldn't lose him. How funny the world was; turns out her fear of not having him in her life, even on purely platonic basis, would be brought true by her. She pushed her cute panda shoes through the dirt, bringing the swing to an abrupt stop.

She left the swing and wandered off to the main road where even at this time she had no trouble catching a cab. With Slade creeping up on her, she completely forgot to grab her tablet. Once back in the Foundry, she silently thanked whoever was listening that Slade wasn't inside. She examined the place, taking it all in. Who knew when she would have another chance to see it all? She never would have thought that she'd have to part with her beloved computers or the mats that supplied her with better fighting sequences than even Game of Thrones had to offer. Or that salmon ladder which was definitely her favourite.

Once she narrowed down her missing object, she went back to the parking lot to retrieve her car. She had to focus on the hard task ahead of her. Saying goodbyes.

She dialled his number several times. Nothing. She scrunched her eyebrows together. One more time. Oliver's too chirpy voice informed her he was unavailable and to try later. Stupid voicemail. She threw her phone to the passenger seat and brought out her tablet. If he wasn't going to pick up, she would go about it another way. Few minutes later, she managed to trace the signal from his phone. Queen Consolidated. Now, she really wouldn't have thought to look for him there, this early. She decided that for whatever reason he was there, he wouldn't be leaving for a while. She reversed her car and headed towards the local car rental.

The clicking of her stilettos accompanied the speech she kept on rehearsing in her head as she walked down the corridor leading to his office. The words were subtle enough to refrain from giving too much away, but at the same time enough that he'd understand how much he matters to her.

She stopped around a corner, his office in in front of her. The glass walls gave her a view of his sinew back, enough to tell her how tense he was. Taking the time to compose herself as he remained unaware of her presence, she tried to write the little details to memory. How he held himself as he stood facing the window or the way the shirt hugged his biceps, his tie loose.

"Oliver" she said, announcing herself, yet for some reason rather than seeing him relax like he would normally, his shoulders tensed more than they were already.

"What are you doing here?" his tone hiding not so well a hint of annoyance.

When the words registered, she too felt rather annoyed. He was ignoring her phone calls for the last few hours and retreated to a spot, in which he hoped he wouldn't have to face her. Then it clicked.

Felicity grabbed his arm.

"'You coward! You're avoiding me because you think I blame you?"

"How could you not, Felicity?!" he shouted. "I'm the reason he's what he is. I was the one to inject him with mirakuru."

She was stunned to silence. Yet she knew from what he told her before that they were close as brothers. The logical part of her brain tugged that that he'd probably had no other choice.

"I trust you, Oliver. There must have been a good reason"

"He was going to die", he stated matter-of-factly, his eyes glazed over as if he was reminiscing a distant memory.

She closed the remaining distance between them. Unblinking and gazing into his eyes, she stood up on her tiptoes.

"But it doesn't change much now, does it? I took your dad from you", he continued unruffled.

"No Oliver, he was gone before he ever even got the chance to meet you," she murmured.

She leaned in to quickly kiss Oliver's cheek. Instead, her lips involuntarily landed on the corner of his; somewhat touching the skin around them but mostly placed on the softness of his lips. They were warm and inviting. Before she could talk herself out it, she shifted and laid one last kiss whilst he remained unmoving, this time directly in the center. A second ticked by before he responded, tugging her lip causing her to let out a moan. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. She grabbed his the hem of his jacket not wanting him to leave.

Slowly, she pulled away breathless. His eyes were closed. It was better than anything she had ever imagined.

"I'm just glad you're not any taller or I'd had to get out a ladder", she attempted to joke to dissolve the tension that arose in the room, yet her voice came out sounding lugubrious.

She could feel her cheeks turning reddening. He wasn't helping; he turned mute. His gaze met hers and was so intense she felt her knees quiver.

"I'll better go." She turned on her heel and nearly ran out the nearest exit.

"Felicity, wait!' His voice loomed behind her, but she didn't stop.

She was supposed to say goodbye, close a chapter of her life, despite how wonderful, yet she she did the opposite; allowing her so well hidden till now feelings to resurface, letting him have a glimpse.

The heart wrenching moment when she looked into his eyes, realising she wouldn't be seeing them again propelled her to kiss him. She kissed Oliver Queen. And he kissed her back. Yet, shouldn't have done that, she really shouldn't.

It didn't matter now.

Her fingers turned white as she clenched the steering wheel a bit too hard. Slade called her when she drove away from QC, her thoughts so busy circling around Oliver, she had trouble forming coherent responses. She didn't know whether to beg him to leave her and her friends alone or ask for more details as to where they would be heading,. After a moment of silence she blurted out a mere 'yes'. Yes, she'd would leave her life behind for the man she wasn't meant to fall in love with. Slade told her to stop at a roadside inn, twenty miles north from Starling City. That's where the instructions ended.

She still had to head home.

Fifteen minutes later, she half heartedly packed whatever she thought she would need the most; garments of underwear, few pairs of shoes and other necessities along with any equipment that she might for some reason require. Whilst packing all her cables a sudden realisation hit her. She had no photos of those she would be leaving behind. No Oliver, no Diggle. It would be as if the past two years never happened. She cursed, profanities so awful they would make a nun blush.

Felicity pinched her nose as the smell of sweat and vinegar occupying the car hit her nostrils. It was the only available vehicle that she could be offered at such short notice apparently. Sighing, she reached hand for the radio, hoping some lyrics would soothe her jittering nerves. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous; after all it was only her father, injected with a drug that occasionally led to psychotic episodes which involved swinging a loaded gun at the people she cared about. Who was only about to take her out to the unknown. Certainly, nothing she couldn't handle.

Tunes of 'I want to break free' filled the tiny car. She groaned.

Cars sped past her in a blur. The whole hour she spent driving passed far too quickly. She could feel her freedom spilling through her fingers the closer she got to her destination, filling her with dread.

She refused to write a long letter filled with apologies and regrets. Instead she opted for a few lines explaining she felt the need to catch up with her father, so she would appreciate if everyone let them be. She omitted the part where she mentions that she was forced to leave in order to protect him. He'd come to resent her and that she could live with. However, if she put anything else down, she knew Oliver would blame himself; for what in particular, she wasn't sure but he would think of something. Not killing Slade when he had the chance, giving him mirakuru, not telling him the truth or something along those lines if not all together. That guilt would would be a road to self destruction; finding a way to bring down Slade at the cost of his own life. Once again she had no choice; she had to keep him in the dark.

Her phone rang for the fifth time. Oliver Queen. Sighing, she pressed ignore. A second passed

and her phone beeped.

Where are you?

The food in front of her was untouched, she could only bring herself to take an occasional sip of the strongly brewed coffee. She blinked away the sleepiness that began settling down the longer she sat in the uncomfortable stool. Slade told her that he'd meet her at half past seven, but seconds ticked by and he still wasn't to be seen.

She took a last sip of her now lukewarm drink, wondering what the hell she was doing.

The loud chatter around her transformed to hushed whispers. Across the room, a man of impending posture and with an eyepatch, headed her way.

Eight days later.

She awoke to coldness, head pounding, eyelids flattering. Bright light hit her uncovered pupils, making her squirm. Blinking away the blurriness, she attempted to follow the source of her discomfort. A miniature window, half a meter in width and height, and stream of sunlight rays; irritating as a prolonged exposure to intense copier light. Where was she? Her body lay horizontally, and her head was positioned on something soft. Slowly, she directed her gaze downwards, confirming her earlier thoughts. Definitely a bed. Deciding to get on with it, she gathered the will to move and head towards the window. Couple of seconds later, she continued to lay unmoving. A flash of blind panic enveloped her brain, causing her breaths to come out quick and shallow. Why couldn't she move?

What was she goddamn thinking? She owned him at least a face to face explanation, not a note and a kiss with a hidden meaning. Fuming with anger, he threw a drug dealer onto the ground. She took their prisoner and let him escape. The part of him that screamed that she was justified to do what she did, Oliver chose to ignore. Anger was easier to focus on. He lifted his bow and pointed it at the man in front of him, aiming at the heart. When he first read that she needed to catch up with her father, he expected a couple of days the most; then for her to return. Without Slade of course, he knew Felicity; she had a heart of gold and whatever her father was, she had to give him a chance. He could accept that, but what he couldn't was her gone from his life. Remembering how much she didn't want him to break his promise to Tommy, he lowered his weapon.

"This is your last warning", Oliver growled, before leaping onto a rooftop.

Her predilection for honesty with him concerned, meant he hardly expected her to vanish just like that. Yet, wrath wasn't all he felt. He didn't want to even think about it, but with what Slade was, he was concerned for her safety. Father or not, she was walking on eggshells. Worst part; he wasn't sure she knew and so he feared that her lack of brain-to-mouth filter which he liked so much about her, could land her in trouble. He hoped Slade could still be the man he was before Mirakuru; for Felicity's sake.

The second time she awoke, a man stood by her feet.

"Don't fret Meghan. I realise this must be highly unpleasant, but I promise you that you'll thank me in the end", said Slade, his voice calm and thick with confidence.

She wanted to shout and tell him he lost his mind, yet no voice came out. What did he do to her?

She closed her eyes in defeat. She didn't hear his voice again that day.

Eventually the team managed to set up all the computer searches they needed. Yet, days turned to nights, and they were still running. No security footage, no changes to bank accounts, no nothing. Despite it not bearing any fruit, Oliver refused to yield. He chased every blind lead, each leaving him more desperate than the one before.

"You remember Ivo?" When she didn't give him any kind of acknowledgement, he continued. "The scientist so desperate to find Mirakuru that it cost him his life. Well, not quite. Oliver, didn't tell you the whole truth you see. As you probably heard already, he was very much embraced with the idea of finding a cure for his dear wife. Eventually when he realised his chances of getting his hands on Mirakuru were close to none, he began conducting his own research which lead him to make his own drug."

Slade smirked.

"Poor fellow, didn't realise till very end that what he made didn't quite resemble the drug he spent years searching for. What he made, was quite different." He paused and walked up to her tiny window.

"It wasn't Mirakuru that killed him; it was the drug he invented - or more so, the people who he injected with the new discovery.

The discovery that now flows through your veins with just a few tiny adjustments, courtesy of the brilliant scientist working for me."

Four months later

Slade Wilson won. He wasn't sure whether it was all part of a cunning plan, but by taking Felicity he fulfilled his promise. The despair he felt with her gone was crippling. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. Four months with her gone, he received a letter. At first he didn't realise what it was. He just shuffled it like everything else onto a pile of correspondence he hadn't bothered to open. Three days later, by a stroke of luck or maybe simply as a result of his sister having had enough, where she told to "get a grip".

Her remedy consisted of handing him a pile of letters, muttering it was a good enough place to start.

Randomly selecting a letter, Oliver realised it was the one he was sent a couple of days ago - he remembered as there was something odd about the envelope but at the time he couldn't pinpoint what. Three days ago, he decided it was his lack of sleep that conjured up the unexplainable feeling he got when he held it in his hand, but now he wasn't so sure. Looking down at the block capitals spelling out his name, he realised there was a slight slant to them. Starring, his heart rate accelerated. Only one person he knew, wrote her 'Q's like that; curling the vertical tail so beautifully that he often had a laugh; telling her she missed her vocation by not becoming a calligrapher.

"Felicity", the name escaped his lips as he teared down the envelope.

She came to hate him, although she wondered if the verb truly described the intensity of her feeling. Loath. Detest. None of them did. Sure, they worked when he left her as a kid, but what he did to her as of late, that was something else. When he asked her to go with him, she thought she could learn to forget these feelings and start anew. But, she never got the chance. Instead, a couple of hours after stepping into his black, gull-winged sport's car, she felt a prick on her neck and the world dissolved into blackness. When she woke up again, she was in a tiny cell. She still had no idea how long she spent in there, but she definitely knew that the person who left it was no longer the same person that went in.

Or rather, was carried in.

With somewhat shaking hands, he opened the letter.

Oliver,

I want to think that you don't condemn my decision, but I know you better than that. I'm sorry for the four times towards the end that I told you nothing would change.

He paused, what four times? He couldn't recall ever having such conversation with Felicity. He decided to dwell on that later.

I guess I was wrong. Andrew Forster wrote about horses when reminiscing the old way of life, but I'm terrible with imaginary, so I'll put it plainly as it's my second attempt already and clearly I was never born a writer. So whatever you must think, please know that the time I spent with You and the team, meant a world to me. It'll forever stay as one of the most fondest memories, but it was time I moved on. Be safe Oliver and try to forget me.

F. Smoak.

He turned the letter to the other side. Nothing. He started to laugh. This was all she had to say? Seven lines, not including his name or hers, which left him as clueless as before. Although, only now he realised she didn't want to be found. Try to forget me. And how was he to do that? Her and Diggle's presence was what brought him back to the land of living. It was her who kept him sane when the memories of the island threatened to overwhelm him. It was her who saw good in him, when no one else did. How could he even try to forget her? The whole damn letter barely sounded like Felicity. He threw a punch at the wall in front of him, staining the adorned with patterns wallpaper with his blood. Ignoring the throbbing pain, he picked his phone and called Diggle.

"Foundry. In ten." he said, not caring how cold his voice sounded.