Felicity paused before the closed door, glancing down at the phone gripped tightly in her shaking hand. The red light stayed where it was, right on top of her position. She swallowed, trying to ignore the churning in her stomach and the pounding in her chest.

She knew that that this was stupid, that John would be horrified if he knew where she was, that Oliver… her Oliver, would have been furious. Just thinking of him was enough to summon an image to her mind: Oliver standing over her and shouting, the anger in his eyes completely failing to mask his concern. Felicity blinked back tears, knowing that she would give anything to be able to leave and go back to the Foundry, to have everything just as it had been, even if that meant facing down Oliver in one of his rages. But the Foundry was gone and so was he, which was why she was here.

Felicity glanced at her phone again, a force of habit born of nerves. The tracker that she had placed on Maseo's sleeve when he had been about to search her earlier that night still hadn't moved. Back then, she hadn't even been sure what, if anything, she had planned to do with it. But then Oliver had looked at her and, somehow, despite the painful distance between them and his unnatural, dead expression, she had seen him. Oliver Queen, not Al Sahim. Now, she wondered if she had imagined it. Perhaps it was simply wishful thinking. She had to be sure.

Felicity thrust the phone into her pocket and remembered Oliver's parting words to her as she gripped the door handle and carefully edged the door open. Let's not say goodbye this time. She hadn't. And if there was anything that could be done, any hope at all, she never would. On some level she knew that the alternative was also possible, that this might be the time when she truly did let him go, and said farewell for the last time. She didn't want to think about that.

The rooftop was in darkness, the shadows only barely weakened by lights from the nearby buildings. It was cold too, even the shelter provided by the air-conditioning vents and the single stairwell couldn't block the night wind that moulded her thin coat to her body. Felicity pulled the garment more closely around her and kept her back tight to the stairwell wall as she edged away from the door. She peered into the darkness around her, her breath coming in tight, short bursts. There was no movement on the rooftop. For a moment, relief almost overcame her disappointment as she realised the tracker must have been dislodged from Maseo's sleeve. Felicity's heart sank, but some of her shaking subsided.

She didn't even see the shape move in the shadows beside her. Instead, all she felt was sudden, searing pain in her side. She stumbled forward, tripping over her feet, a shove or a kick knocking her face first onto the concrete. She rolled over to see her attacker, just as the light from a nearby building glanced off the assassin's raised sword. Felicity's eyes slammed shut automatically, and she held her breath as she waited for the sword to descend.

The sudden clash of steel made her eyes slam open again. The silver blade hovered above her, blocked by another. Felicity's gaze followed the new blade up towards the face of its owner, and she flinched at the grim features glaring down at her.

"Oliver," she whispered.

He ignored her, barking an order at the other man. The assassin instantly withdrew, sheathing his sword and disappearing across the rooftop. Oliver stood still, watching him go. Then, he leaned down and yanked Felicity to her feet, ignoring her protests as he dragged her towards the back of the stairwell. He slammed her against the wall, holding her in place with a hand on her shoulder. Light from a nearby apartment block sliced across his face.

"I should kill you right now," he said quietly, his tone venomous.

"Oliver…" Felicity began, taking a step forward. He shoved her back against the wall almost effortlessly.

"My name is Al Sahim."

Felicity opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it when he stepped closer. His sword was sheathed, but his expression held a warning. She searched his face in the dim light, hunting for any semblance of the man she loved. Everything about him was different, his expression, his clothes, even his hair. But there was a familiarity in his stance, in the way he invaded her space without seeming to notice. Her eyes moved over his body and returned to his face, and her breath caught when she realised that he was studying her in turn. A familiar frown creased his brow as his eyes moved slowly over her face. He scanned every inch of her features, examining her, taking his time. She watched his lashes dip as his gaze lingered on her lips. Oliver's expression didn't flicker, but Felicity saw him draw a breath, long and deep, his shoulders rising and falling as he inhaled her. It was a familiar movement, from very long ago, when the words "I love you" were less than unthinkable to either of them.

"Do you remember me?" she asked quietly.

Oliver's expression tightened and his cold blue eyes snapped to hers. For a moment she thought he wouldn't reply. When he finally did, it was barely a grunt. "Yes."

She nodded, steeling herself for the next response. "Do you...do you remember that you loved me?"

Oliver's frown deepened, his eyes resuming that relentless scanning of her face. He shifted closer still and Felicity inhaled leather and incense. It reminded her of Nanda Parbat, of Oliver's room and a shared, stolen hour. She clenched her hands at her sides to keep herself from reaching for him.

"I remember." Felicity wondered if Oliver's thoughts were in the same place as hers. "But that man is dead now. Al Sahim is all that remains."

Felicity swallowed, nodding as she struggled to hold back her tears. But something in Oliver's tone caught her attention. It was as cold as ever, but there was a slight edge to it that hadn't been there before. She almost flinched when she saw his hand rise, but froze when he laid it gently against her cheek. She held his gaze as he tilted her chin up, wondering if he noticed that his thumb was very slightly stroking her skin. He turned her head gently, angling it towards the light, studying her with a faintly puzzled expression.

She felt his body shift as his other hand moved, coming to rest on the side where she had been struck. This time she did flinch, and at the same moment she felt the wetness of her clothing as Oliver's hand pressed the fabric against her skin. Alarmed, she looked down at the same moment as Oliver raised his hand, a dark, wet stain spreading across his palm.

"Oliver?" she whispered, panic rising. When she met his eyes, the coldness was gone. Instead there was a single emotion, naked and raw. Fear.

His eyes were the last thing she saw before she passed out.

When Felicity woke up in a hospital bed hours later, with Diggle and Thea standing at her side, the first person she looked for was Oliver. Even when her memories came flooding back, all she could see was that last glimpse of Oliver's eyes and the fear they held.

They still hadn't said goodbye. She knew now that they never would.