Tomorrow

Oliver followed the tracery of veins beneath Felicity's skin with his fingertips, careful not to wake her as he followed the flow of blood to her heart. The floor was cold, and goosebumps rose on her skin even as she slept. Oliver instinctively moved closer to shield her from the cold, enclosing her body with his own.

Felicity had decimated the bulk of Damien's verbal attack in a way that still left Oliver feeling speechless. Like her trust in him was second nature, like her defense of him was something she knew by heart. Most of all, it showed him that Felicity was fully capable of opposing her father, whatever he was planning.

But Oliver still hoped that she wouldn't have to. It was a dark thought, one that had no place in this moment — their moment — of shared quiet. He brought Felicity close to him again and smoothed the hair from her sleeping face, adding to the wealth of cherished memories that tied them together.

Partly to see if he could, Oliver pressed his lips to hers, just to see if she'd wake. It was almost wondrous, the way Felicity stirred beneath him, her eyelashes sweeping her cheeks as she started to gather him closer — sleepily, as if she was guiding him home.

"Felicity," he said. "We're going to be late."

It was rude, Felicity decided, to wake someone post-sleeping-together for non-followup purposes. Just plain rude.

Felicity gave a sleepy murmur of protest when Oliver pulled away. He kissed her neck, but seemed intent on stopping there. "Police station," he said, and hoisted himself off her torso.

Felicity groaned, pushing her head into the shelter of her arm. "I thought you said we had time."

"We did have time." Oliver's look just about encompassed where all the so-called time had gone. That — and the clothes haphazardly strewn across the room.

By the time Felicity picked herself off the floor, Oliver was unfortunately wearing pants again, and if that wasn't bad enough, he seemed intent on helping Felicity back into her clothes.

Then again, fastening a bra one-handedly was no joke.

"That's a lot of self-restraint you're exhibiting there," Felicity commented, as Oliver's hands glided across the skin of her back. "Usually when I ask you for help with my underwear, it's to get it off me, not the other way around."

Oliver reached around Felicity to get her was sitting with her back to him, his legs stretched out on either side of her body. "We adapt to the situation," he murmured, his breath tickling her cheek.

"Bah." Felicity obediently ducked her head to get through the neck of her tank top, gingerly working her injured arm through the strap. Oliver gently gathered her hair in one hand and held it out of the way while she arranged her clothes.

"Your dad thinks I'm dangerous," Oliver said, quietly.

It should have made Felicity worry, the fact that Oliver was bringing up her dad again. But something in his tone suggested otherwise, and Felicity looked over her shoulder. "And do you believe him?" she asked.

Oliver tilted his head to the side, his expression contemplative. "He thinks there's a darkness in me — and he's right. But he thinks that it'll make me hurt you — that it's possible for me to hurt you." Their eyes met, and Oliver smiled, faintly. "He's wrong there," he said.

Felicity turned so that she was kneeling between his legs. "Right answer," she said, with a smile that couldn't encompass how unspeakably relieved she was — that Oliver was seeing through her dad's excessively twisted logic.

"Besides, if anything," she added, "I'm the one who hurts you." She brushed the red mark at the side of Oliver's neck, almost — but not quite — hidden by the collar of his shirt. Product of her — um — abundant enthusiasm post-rescue and at things coming full circle.

The mark was definitely going to bruise. Whoops. "Was I too rough on you?" she asked, pressing lightly on the mark.

"Never."

Oliver's answer was a smiling whisper, and Felicity laughed, clambering on top of him before he could stop her. But he carried her easily in his lap, and Felicity would have gladly stayed there for the conceivable eternity. Unfortunately — half of the equation was a responsible adult, and they had an appointment at the police station.

Not to mention City Hall — if nothing else blew up in their faces.

"Speaking of," she murmured. "We should probably do something about City Hall. You know — so when we get married, it's actually official."

Her skin tickled when Oliver brushed a loose fall of hair behind her ear. "That's what I was doing, actually," he said, as if dropping that ambiguous a statement was nothing special.

Felicity nearly fell off his lap when she leaned back. "What?"

Oliver was reaching around her leg, his fingers sliding into his pocket. "That's what I was doing, after settling your dad. I was making some calls, and…this."

He held something out in the palm of his hand, and it took Felicity a second to realize what she was looking at.

It was a ring. Simple, unmarked, more gray than silver…like mist rising off a lake at dawn. A wedding band made from arrowheads, larger than her own, because it had been made to fit Oliver himself.

Felicity looked up at him, her lips parted in surprise. "Did you —?"

"Tomorrow, City Hall," he said. "We're getting married."

Felicity took the ring from Oliver herself, and slipped it — over knuckle and bone — until it came to rest at the base of his finger, a perfect fit. Gently, she laid their hands side by side, holding them in her lap, relishing the twin gleam of their rings. It was amazing to her how his hand could feel brand new and the same, all from something as small as the addition of a wedding band.

They were both wearing the rings, and they were getting married. For real.

Felicity started to kiss Oliver's face, careless of her aim — of the fact that they were going to be late — because all she could think of, in the heat of the moment, was —

"Finally."

The Foundry, emptied of Team Flash and Ray (team name pending) was…easier. Less hectic. Definitely more breathing room.

Sara was lying on one of the long tables, usually commandeered for emergency treatment if one of the boys had gotten hurt…

And that awful day they'd all walked into the Foundry expecting nothing out of the ordinary — wholly unprepared to find their friend lying on the same table with glassy, open eyes and three arrows embedded in her stomach.

Felicity instinctively covered her mouth, as if to quiet her own breathing and make listening to Sara's easier. Her pulse didn't stop racing until she heard it — Sara's breaths, the slowed-down tempo of someone in sleep. Someone alive.

"How is she?" Felicity asked, reflexively checking the bag of saline suspended above Sara's head.

"Since you asked about an hour ago?" said Roy, from his chair beside the monitors. He hadn't taken his eyes off Sara either. "The same. Sleeping."

"Isn't sedated the word for it?" Thea asked, accompanied by the hopeful smell of coffee. The ends of her hair were damp and she'd changed out of her evening dress, like she was hunkering down for a long night of keeping watch. Also (and possibly more importantly), she had two mugs of coffee, one for her and Roy.

"First sip's always the best," said Thea, holding out her mug to Felicity. "Drink up."

Felicity took the burning ceramic in her cold hands and leaned her head affectionately on Thea's. "I love you," she said, completely and wholeheartedly meaning it.

"I know," Thea answered. "It's a shame you met Ollie first, or we'd be the ones getting married."

Roy choked on his coffee. "As the boyfriend, I object to that statement."

Thea leaned her elbow on his shoulder. "Noted," she said, and glanced at Felicity. "Where's Ollie? I thought you guys had an appointment at the police station."

Felicity handed her back the mug. "We do," she said, trying not to think about Oliver waiting upstairs for her on his bike. "Just wanted to check on Sara before I leave."

"You mean 'make sure she hasn't pulled a me and run off'," Roy suggested. "Don't worry, we put restraints on her. She'll still be here tomorrow for the science nerds."

"Hey." Felicity prodded him. "Cisco really likes you. Be nice."

"Oh, I like Cisco," Roy said, bluntly. "It's the Tin Can Man I'm not too fond of."

"He means Ray," Thea added, helpfully.

"I got that." Felicity frowned at them both. "Ray's brilliant. He comes off a little smart-alecky at times, but he's a good guy, and Oliver trusts him — I think."

Two sets of skeptical looks.

Felicity corrected herself. "Fine, Oliver didn't kill him for guessing his secret. Close enough. The point is —" Her phone buzzed. Oliver, probably.

Urgh.

"I have to go," said Felicity, backing towards the stairs. "But call if anything changes. And no Tibetan Pit Viper venom — apparently that stuff's not good for you."

Roy rolled his eyes. "You and Oliver really need to start trusting us in the Foundry," he said, with his usual brusqueness. "We solemnly promise not to blow up the place. Now quit stalling and go."

The police precinct was within sight when Oliver braked. He pulled off his helmet and exhaled, his breath clouding in front of his face from the night chill.

"Uh — Oliver?" said Felicity, her voice slightly muffled by the helmet on her head. "I think my helmet's stuck."

With her arm in a sling, her whole body wobbled when she attempted to shift her helmet one-handedly. Oliver hurriedly got off his bike and crouched in front of her. "Let me," he said, and slipped it from her head. "Are you all right?"

Felicity's pale hair gleamed in the dark, falling messily around her face when she doubled over, head between her knees.

"Well, that was graceful. Pretty sure that's why I'm not supposed to be near bikes after taking pain meds," she mumbled. "Note to self — everything always looks cooler when someone else does it, including riding a Ducati."

Oliver felt her forehead. "You don't have a fever, but I can take you home — we can tell Captain Lance that you're not feeling up to it."

"So he can kick in your front door?" Felicity shook her head, then immediately looked like she regretted it. "I am not going to a police interrogation on my wedding day. Let's just get this over with."

Oliver didn't move. "Felicity," he said.

She lifted her head and smiled at him. "I'm fine," she said, firmly. "Promise. Now let's go through my story."

Oliver stepped back, watching her with concern. But the two of them had enough experience with each others' stubbornness to know when to push, and when to reluctantly acquiesce.

Okay," said Felicity, after the third repetition. "You're sure that Laurel's cool with me telling her dad that the Canary beat the kidnappers up?"

"She suggested it," said Oliver, folding his arms. "Captain Lance isn't going to want to pursue a case if it might incriminate his own daughter."

Felicity bit her lip as if she'd been struck by a thought. "We have to tell him about Sara," she said. "But how do you tell someone that their daughter's back from the dead?"

"I don't know." Oliver took her hand, their fingers entwining. "But we haven't done all we can for her — not yet. The Sara we know is still in there somewhere."

Felicity stroked Oliver's cheek, her eyes warm. "So now you're an optimist," she murmured. "I think you're growing as a person."

Oliver leaned in and kissed her, feeling her hand curl against his neck, the soft rush of her breath against his mouth. "Ready?" he asked.

She nodded. "Ready."

"Masked woman in a blonde wig, huh?" said Captain Lance, scanning the statement Felicity had just signed. "Beat up the thugs who took you? All of 'em?"

Felicity tried not to feel like there was a gigantic red X on her forehead when she nodded. "Yup. She's got a pretty mean swing."

Lance leaned back in his chair, still watching Felicity. "So I've heard."

"Is there a problem, Det—Captain Lance?" Felicity asked, in response to the scrutiny.

"A military-grade helicopter, assault rifles, and one woman takes 'em all down — by herself, before they can make their demands." His tone suggested that her story wasn't as convincing as she'd thought. In hindsight, maybe having the two worst liars in the world come up with a cover story hadn't been the brightest idea.

"I really don't know, Captain." Felicity shifted her sling as if to emphasize her point. "I was in pain, it was really cold, and dark, and everyone was wearing a hood or a mask. It was like some weird…costume thing. Not sex-related, I mean. Just a general kind of weird. Non-weird-weird." She pressed her lips together, resolved not to ruin her case anymore than she already had. "Look, I'm sure my mom's worried, and I really just want to go home. Am I under arrest?"

"You're not under arrest," Lance said, gruffly. "But it's funny how everything with you always seems to involve some kind of mask, eh?"

Felicity sighed. "I really don't know, Captain. I swear I don't plan for these things to happen." That, at least, was true.

Lance slid her statement into a file and stood up. "I'm sorry these guys shot up your birthday. We'll do our best to find out who, but there's not a whole lot to go on." He paused. "Did you put our mutual friend on the case?"

Felicity gave him a diplomatically bland smile. "Kidnappings and hooded gunmen are kind of his thing."

"Not being bogged down by departmental protocol has its perks." Lance held the door open for her. "Now go see your mom — losing you literally gave her a seizure."

"How long's she been in there?" Donna asked.

Oliver looked around in surprise. He was sitting on one of the plastic chairs outside the interrogation room, a cup of terrible coffee in his hands as he waited for Felicity to finish giving her statement.

"Donna," he said, getting to his feet. "We were going to see you in the morning —"

"— you think I could sleep without seeing my daughter get home safe and sound?" Donna smiled without malice and sat down beside him. "When you have a son or daughter of your own, one of the things you regularly put on hold for them is closing your eyes at night, at least until you know they're just fine."

Oliver smiled faintly. "Well, I hope you don't mind some company."

Donna took his hand and patted it. "Thank you, Oliver. For finding her," she said, watching him with the kind of knowing clarity he remembered from the party.

"I didn't find her," Oliver said, quickly. "It was the Canary. She saved Felicity from the kidnappers, I didn't —"

Donna gave him a look to encompass how unnecessary she thought his deflection was. "I'm not the police, Oliver. I don't need the official explanation, or the whole story, all I need to know is that you promised to find my daughter, and now here she is."

"Here she is," Oliver said absently, his eyes on the door, waiting for Felicity.

Donna sighed. "You know, Oliver, I'm pretty sure the two of you will never have a dull moment in your lives." She turned to him with a fond smile. "Which is why I'm so glad that you make her happy, and that you keep your promises when it comes to my daughter, whatever crazy thing life throws your way."

Just by sitting with Donna, Oliver was reminded of the stark differences between Felicity's parents. Just hours before, Damien had told Oliver that he didn't approve of the relationship, that he didn't trust Oliver not to hurt his daughter.

Now Donna was telling him that he had her trust, that she believed in him, and Oliver realized that her opinion was the one that mattered. She'd raised Felicity, knew her daughter, wanted her to be happy. Felicity — happy. It was all that ever mattered.

"What's this?" Donna said, noticing the ring on Oliver's hand. She turned to him, her mouth open. "Did you…?"

"No," Oliver said, already smiling. "Not yet. But we're planning to. City Hall, tomorrow — and we'd be honored if you could come."

Donna's happy-jump-and-squeal was undoubtedly more on the subdued side this time, but Felicity shut her eyes and hugged her mom, maybe because a part of her was infinitely happy that Donna had been the parent who raised her.

I.e. the main reason why she hadn't turned out to be a psychopath like her dad.

"Oh, baby — your arm," she said, touching the sling. "Does it hurt?"

Felicity shook her head. "They gave me something. A lot of somethings, actually. It's just sore now."

"Sweetheart." Donna pressed her cheek to Felicity's. "Who did this to you?"

"I didn't see who. It was dark, and the Cana— a masked lady — came and took them all out before they could say what they wanted." Felicity adamantly refused to look at Oliver, because not telling Donna about her father was a choice she'd made. Starling City was dangerous, more dangerous now that Damien was in it, and Felicity knew that if she told Donna the truth, her mom wouldn't leave her — under any circumstances.

So she couldn't tell her mom the truth.

A criminal and a liar.

If there was anything Oliver had taught Felicity about lying, it was linked inextricably with love, and sacrifice. The kind of love that drove people to do the unthinkable, to do — anything — to protect the people they loved.

So maybe Damien had been right, on the surface. But wrong, so very wrong about the heart of it — the deepest essence of what it was that Oliver had shown Felicity. All-consuming, sacrificial love. The kind of love she was lucky — so unbelievably lucky — to have found, in a world without certainty.

Warmed by the thought, Felicity slipped her hand into Oliver's. "Hi," she said, lifting her face to his.

Oliver kissed her softly. "Hi," he said back. "Everything okay?"

"Mm-hm." Felicity kept her free arm around his middle when she turned back to her mom.

"I heard you had a seizure," Felicity said, with a teasing smile. "Did you see a doctor for it?"

Donna flicked her fringe out of her eyes. "Well," she said, modestly. "Dr. Snow told me it was a one-time thing, very rare. No medical explanation, must have been a fluke."

But the look she exchanged with Oliver was confirmation enough.

"Well, I'm glad you two are getting along," Felicity said, dryly. "Should I start planning the wedding?"

From the way her mom's eyes sparkled, Felicity realized she'd said the secret buzzword. Or the switch that made her mom go straight to squeal-mode again. Either way. Eardrums. Ow.

"Oliver told me that the two of you are finally getting married — at City Hall!" Donna threw her arms around Felicity and rocked her from side to side. "Oh, I'm so happy that something good came out of this!"

"A kidnapping…?" Felicity said, weakly. "Mom, we'd really like it if you came to City Hall with us, and you know — be a witness to the whole thing, but what happened to the Big Wedding plans with Thea?"

Donna kissed Felicity's cheek and patted Oliver's fondly. "I'd rather see my daughter get married in a pair of old sweatpants if it means that she's happy and starting a life with the man she loves."

That, coming from Donna — who wore stilettos and skin-tight dresses just to go to the store — was huge. After the surprise wore off, Felicity laughed and put her free arm around her mom in a hug. So happy that she wasn't Damien, so unspeakably happy that she had a mom like Donna Smoak. "I love you, mom," she whispered, knowing in her heart that tomorrow was going to be a good day.

HEY. So, thanks for all the good wishes about the exams. You guys are awesome.

As promised, the updates up until May 15 are going to be sporadic. I say that NOW, but after watching 3x21 onwards I might go insane and keep writing come hell or high water. Anyways, you guys will be the first to know.