'In Memoriam'

Moira Queen died on a Thursday – but Felicity Smoak never learned of it until Friday morning.

"No," she breathed. Running over to the newspaper stand she was passing with Ted at her side, looking confused as he followed her, she snatched up the paper and read the headline. Her eyes scanned the words, mind reeling. "Oh, God. No."

"What is it?" Ted asked, gently taking the paper from her hand, his other palm resting reassuringly on her back. She didn't see his face as he read the headline; eyes scanning before they were filled with dismay as he sighed.

"I – I can't, she can't be-"

"Shhhh," Ted shushed her as Felicity felt huge tears fall down her face. He pulled her close and hugged her, feeling Felicity shake beneath him. "I'm sorry."

Felicity took huge breaths to regain her composure. For a moment, she wondered why on Earth she was crying – Moira had hated her. Then she realized that it wasn't the Queen matriarch she was crying for.

It was Oliver. He would be broken by this.

Slowly, Felicity took a step back. Lifting her eyes to Ted's she tried to communicate how important this was to her with a look, hand still wrapped up in his shirt sleeve and unlikely to let go anytime soon. "Ted – I have to g-go back. I have to be there for Oliver, to see him-"

"Okay," he answered immediately. Felicity breathed in relief; she should have known Ted would understand. He nodded to her, "I'll sort it out. Let's get to the office, and I promise we'll be in Starling by nightfall."

"We?"

"You really think that I'd leave you alone right now?" Ted asked, raising an eyebrow. He put an arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the Kord Building. "I'm going with you. I understand you need to go back, but you don't have to go alone."

Felicity just rested her head on his shoulder gratefully as they walked. She didn't trust herself to speak.

Diggle waited impatiently, although no one would be able to tell. He stood still and stoically at the airport, waiting for Kord's private charter to arrive. Felicity had called him earlier, telling him she was already on her way and desperately trying to ask what had happened without really asking; obviously she hadn't been alone, so she couldn't mention the Arrow.

He knew this was a bad idea. As happy as he was to see her, Felicity was in danger for even stepping foot in Starling, especially with Slade on a war path. Diggle understood why she had come – she was their friend, and had travelled all this way to remind Oliver of that, which might just be what he needed right now after what he had experienced, although Diggle worried things might not go smoothly.

All those thoughts were driven from his mind as he saw her appear from the crowds. Felicity was the same as ever, a welcome sight in times like these, but the sadness on her face was new. Her cheeks were red from crying, her eyes raw but currently dry.

She hugged him fiercely before he could even open his mouth to greet her.

"Digg," she breathed in his ear as soon as her arms locked around his neck. She paused for a minute. "I'm so sorry - I should have been there."

"This isn't your fault, Felicity," Diggle replied, taking a step back. He kept a hand on her shoulder as he spoke, "Don't ever think that, okay, not even for a second. This is no one's fault but Wilson's."

"But-"

"You couldn't have done anything," he said, a sad edge to his voice. Seeing Felicity again, he could understand why Oliver made the choice he did for the first time – just imagining something like that happening to her was unthinkable. He needed to protect her, determined not to fail Oliver again. "None of us could. We tried, but . . ."

Felicity blinked away tears. "John, no. If this wasn't my fault, it wasn't yours either. You said it – Slade. He's the one to blame for this."

"Try telling Oliver that," Diggle said humourlessly.

"That's exactly what I came back to do."

As he opened his mouth to reply, Diggle noticed the man approaching them, wheeling two suitcases. He recognised it as Ted Kord immediately, after Oliver had made them all recognise the man's face and know all about him in case anything ever happened to Felicity, but he hadn't expected Kord to be here.

The man looked serious, the obvious line of worry creasing his brow only partly concealed by floppy brown hair as he grew closer. When he stopped next to Felicity, he nodded, extending a hand.

"You must be John Diggle. I've heard a lot about you."

"Yeah," Diggle took the hand and shook it. "You too, Mr. Kord."

"Just Ted. And I'm very sorry about your loss."

Diggle let go of the hand, not bothering to point out that the loss wasn't exactly 'his'. It didn't matter. The sentiment was genuine, that much was clear, so he didn't see the point in dismissing Ted's sympathy. With a nod of understanding, he took one of the bags from the other man, and all three of them walked out of the airport together.

Oliver was sitting in the Foundry on the day of his mother's funeral, knees tucked up to his chest and trying to remember how to breathe. It wasn't working. With every breath desperately sucked in, his lungs inflated and deflated, but it wasn't enough, his head was pounding, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe –

"Oliver?"

He registered the voice, just barely, but it didn't mean anything to him as he put his arms tighter around his legs, putting his head atop his knees. He couldn't breathe and it was too light, he couldn't do this. He couldn't face it. He couldn't – he couldn't bury her.

"Oliver, listen to me!"

The voice was more insistent now, and accompanied by a hand on his arm. It felt like a woman's, small and delicate, but the voice wasn't Sara's. . . who?

Still breathing in ragged breaths, chest heaving like that of an angry animal, Oliver looked up to see a familiar face clouding his vision, framed spectacles and a shade of lipstick he'd recognise anywhere. Felicity. Felicity was here. Things would be okay.

When his eyes started to go out of focus, a sharp stinging in his arm brought Oliver back again, Felicity's nails digging into his forearm as she struggled to get him up. Noticing his gaze on her again, she crouched and put a different hand to his face, trying to keep his attention this time.

"Look at me. It's important that you stay with me, okay? Oliver! You need to get up."

"Felicity."

"Yes," she said, like it had been a question and not a prayer. "You can yell at me for being here later, right now you need to move. You're having a panic attack. Get up."

Numbly, he staggered to his feet and followed her to the table, where he sat again. The edges of his vision felt blurry, and everything held a tint too bright, like it wasn't real. This must all be in his head then, Oliver thought; he'd imagined Felicity was there to help him because he couldn't cope on his own. He used to do the same thing on the Island, except then it was Laurel. So much had changed.

If it was a dream, he'd take it. He missed her so much it ached, physical pangs of sickness hitting him whenever Oliver thought about how he had driven her away. No, this was not real: she was not holding his shoulders, her lips forming words indistinguishable.

Felicity was safe far away. Oliver felt his breathing even out, the world coming back into focus as the Felicity in his head fixed him up, making him better again. He allowed himself to fall into the lie, knowing it couldn't be true.

Ted and Diggle sat in the empty club. When they had arrived, searching for Oliver, Felicity and Diggle had somehow managed to convince the other man to let Felicity go down alone to confront Oliver, claiming he sometimes hid in the basement of the club. It was dangerously close to the truth, almost too close for comfort, but Ted had accepted it with a word of caution to Felicity.

He sat at the bar with Diggle, trying to get a read of the other man. Although Felicity had spoken about him quite a bit, she always seemed to be avoiding something – probably Oliver, he'd wager – when she did. Ted knew that the other man was Felicity's best friend while she was in Starling, and an ex-soldier, but not much else.

"So . . ." Ted started a little awkwardly, habitually rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke, "I was hoping you'd pass my condolences to Oliver, when you see him."

Diggle looked confused, "Why not tell him yourself?"

"When we last met I might've, uh, said some choice words to him about Felicity. Not nice ones," Ted said, feeling abashed. He didn't regret his words, but didn't think his presence would be appreciated right now, so had decided to respectfully keep his distance from Oliver Queen for the time being. "If I were him, I wouldn't want to see me right now. But what happened is a tragedy, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

Ted shrugged, taking a sip of the drink Diggle had poured for both of them when they'd sat. The whiskey was strong and burned his throat as he swallowed, the aftertaste warm and exactly what he needed. It was damn cold in that club. When he looked up, Diggle was watching him carefully, but his words were blunt.

"Who'd you lose?"

"I don't understand."

"You've got the look," Diggle explained with a non-commital shrug, "I learned to notice it when I was in Special Forces. People who've lost someone, when they're faced with death – they get this look; you've got it right now. People don't say stuff like that with that look on their face unless they've lost someone. I'd know."

Ted didn't deny anything. "Who'd you-"

"My brother," Diggle answered before he could even get the question out. The sip he took was much larger this time.

Ted made a noise and nodded, drinking also. That was hard, family was always the worst. He didn't say that he was sorry; because he knew how often Diggle must have heard it by now, and how hollow it felt every time. Instead he told as much of the truth as he could.

"A while back – six months ago maybe, I . . . I saw someone I'd come to see as a father die right in front of me," Ted said slowly, not meeting the other man's eye. He couldn't; it had been months since he'd spoken about Dan Garrett's death with anyone. "Felicity doesn't know, so if you could . . ."

"Of course," Diggle answered, picking up on the unspoken question. "It's your secret to tell."

"Thanks. That's why I asked her to come with me, you know?" Ted shrugged; playing it off like it was nothing. He was good at that, but Diggle wasn't fooled, not for a second. "I guess what happened made me realize how important family is, and so when I bumped into her – we used to be like brother and sister, you know? Then we just . . . drifted. But our accident? It was a lucky coincidence, and I'm grateful for it. Having family around again – it's made everything different."

A smile tugged at the corners of Diggle's mouth. Slowly, he raised a glass and tapped it against Ted's both of them draining the liquid in one, almost racing one another. They almost smiled.

Having said what needed to be, they fell into companionable silence as they waited.

Oliver woke not as he usually did, with a start and racing heart from whatever memory plagued him that night, but gently, eyelids opening to a warm light. He blinked a few times, the strip lights over head turned down a few notches instead of their usually blinding glow. Knowing he was lying on the table in the Foundry, Oliver wondered if he was injured for a second – he didn't remember getting hurt, but why else would he be lying there?

Frown flitting over his face, he rolled a little onto his side to get up and found his answer lying there.

Felicity sat at a chair pushed up to the table, slumped over it her head lying against the table and eyes closed. One hand was underneath her cheek, but the other reached out towards him, lying over his own. Oliver looked down at their hands together in shock. As her breathing was low and even, he knew she was just sleeping, watching over him.

The thought made his stomach rush with an unexpected warmth. The hollowness which had filled him for days was momentarily kept at bay by the affection, odd but not unwelcome. It was better than feeling empty; that had been the most unbearable part of the past few days. His mother was gone and Thea couldn't look at him, and although Diggle and Sara tried, they hadn't been able to make it go away.

This did. Waking up feeling safe, and two hands together, and Oliver felt alive.

An almost-smile ghosted his lips, what might have turned into a grin on better days, but for right then, even the small upturn of his lips was a miracle.

Although he was thankful for it, Oliver's face quickly turned to panic as he sat up fully. Moving his hand away, he clenched it once to shake away the feeling, getting up off the table and standing across from her in stunned silence. Felicity was there, so close he could touch her - but she was supposed to be away, she was supposed to be safe – she couldn't be here. She couldn't be here.

"Felicity?" he said loudly. The vulnerability in his voice shocked him, so Oliver made sure to control himself as she flinched awake at her name, looking up in confusion until her eyes met his. He must have looked angry, if her reaction said anything. Good. She needed to leave. He asked coldly, "What happened? Why was I asleep?"

She looked guilty for half a second. "I kind of maybe drugged you?"

"Felicity-"

"I had to do something! You were having a panic attack and freaking out, you could have hurt yourself!"

Oliver let it drop, throwing his hands in the air and storming away, back facing her for a moment. Then he turned back suddenly, "What are you doing here?"

"I – I heard what happened," Felicity replied, the tears on her voice evident in it's shaking. She slowly sat up in her chair, keeping a hand on the table. "I didn't really think about it. I just knew that you'd need me, so I came."

The words hit Oliver like bullets, and he took a step back. His crafted mask fell again, evaporating with the anger settling in his stomach – and there was that warmth again, so simple yet fierce. For now, he couldn't put a name to it, but he couldn't deny it's existence either. After the way they had left things, he couldn't believe that Felicity had crossed the country to see him.

"You shouldn't be here, Slade -"

"I know." Felicity's face fell, "I know it's dangerous. But Oliver, what happened?"

"He took us. Me and Thea and . . . and Mom," he coughed to remove the lump in his throat, the end of the sentence coming out weakly. There was no chance of sounding strong now. Oliver felt his hands drop limply to his sides, eyes glazing over as he spoke. "He killed her, right in front of me. He-He wanted to make me choose, but Mom she, she stood up and told him to-"

When he broke off, face so broken, Felcity felt like she had been kicked in the chest. After everything he'd been through, Oliver didn't deserve this. "I'm so sorry, Oliver."

"It's not your fault."

"It isn't yours, either," she said softly. "Please tell me that you know that."

When he said nothing, gaze dropping to his feet, she got to her own, but when she tried to walk towards him, Oliver stepped away. Holding out her hands but staying where she was, Felicity went on.

"Listen to me. None of this was your fault, no matter what you think or Slade says. He did this; not you." Felicity grit her teeth seethingly for a moment, and Oliver believed she could fight Slade and win with anger like that. "Slade's problem was that he could never let go of the past – he let what happened on the Island define him. But violence isn't the way to solve anything, killing won't make a difference. This was his choice and you – I'm sorry Oliver, you couldn't stop it."

"The Island-"

"Wasn't your fault either," Felicity said sharply, "And even if it was, murder still isn't the way to solve anything. We have to stop Slade so he can't hurt anyone else."

"No," Oliver shook his head, coming to his senses. It was only then that he realizes his face was wet, swiping away the tears quickly and walking decisively towards her. "I have to do this – you need to leave. If this has taught me anything, it's that I need to keep the people I love away from Slade Wilson."

"I can help!" Felicity argued back, "I know the risks – we've been through this enough! You need my help; it's yours. If Slade wants me dead, I'll be dead wherever I am." Oliver winced at her words, feeling sick again. She was so close. "Don't . . . don't act like you did before. I know you're my friend, it was never a lie. Slade Wilson is a madman, and he could kill you, too."

Oliver closed his eyes. God, he wanted her to stay. He wanted her to make him better and be there when he came back every night, bleeding and tired, and to hear her laugh around like it used to be. But then he pictured her with a sword through her chest, blood dripping from her mouth. Then he thought about how much worse this would be if it ended with her dead. And then, Oliver took a step away.

"You shouldn't have come," he said cruelly, any trace of emotion gone from his voice. "Go home, Felicity. I can handle this."

"Don't do this," Felicity shook her head, tone warning. "Don't you do this to me again."

"What? Tell you the truth?" he stepped forwards, "Even if you were here, my mother would still be dead! What would you have done from behind a computer, huh?"

"I-"

"Nothing. You couldn't change anything."

Felicity's mouth fell open at his words, taking a step away from him. Lip quivering, he could see her forming words on her lips a dozen times and getting nothing out, eyes swimming with unshed tears, burning behind her glasses. At her sides, her hands shook.

It killed him, it hurt so bad Oliver thought he might die there and then and frankly wouldn't be upset about it, but Oliver make himself glare coldly at her and dismissively snort.

"What did you even come for? I told you to go."

Her moth closed then, and he was surprised at her resolve, her face determinedly dry and edging on angry. Head tilting to one side, she seemed to decide something, face throwing out emotions wildly as she spoke, voice wavering as she echoed the words to him.

"There was no choice to make."

Felicity ran out, and Oliver fell to the floor.

A/N: You didn't really think any happiness would last for long, did you? The timeline of this fic may follow certain aspects of Arrow s2 such as Moira's death, but the overall storyline with Slade will be different, of course, because Felicity isn't there. If you wanted more of Team Arrow reuniting, be sure to check back next week!