A/N: Hello my love poodles, how are we all? Bummer, never mind, it'll probably grow back.

Life update from your Aunty Lou – Percy has returned from the vets, sans balls but still with that can do attitude. Everything they told me to do postoperative care wise, I've disregarded. Yes, I'm a rebel like that. They wanted me to have him wear an Elizabethan collar for the next ten days to protect his stitches, only eat one third of his food on the first day, and not to run around and jump on anything. All those things happened within the first 10 minutes of taking him home. So yeah, there's that, but if anyone has a way to keep an 18week old puppy still, then I'd like to hear it. And now Perc has an ear tattoo from it all. He thinks he's really cool, because, you know, all the kids have ink these days. :D

Um, so, been at work all day, so brain has melted out my ears. Still navel deep in a work issue clean up. It's been nearly a week now. Some problems don't go away without a fight and some horse whipping with red licorice… which I ate before we got to the whipping part. Curse your delicious chewy sweetness red licorice!

But, apart from that, I am devoid of stories to tell you. I think I have a fungal infection on my little toe… but that's not exactly riveting stuff… although fungus is pretty interesting in of itself… at least to me.

Anyways, I'm trying to finish off the chapter I'm working on, so no more aimless meandering from me. I'll let you find out for whom the bell tolled in this chapter.

Toodles. :D

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Oliver stared out the window of the car, unseeing of the city nightscape flashing by.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened last night?" asked Diggle.

"Are you going to tell me how you got those scratches on your neck?" stalled Oliver. Diggle had been surprisingly unforthcoming about the subject when Oliver had asked him earlier. All he'd said was that they'd secured their informant within Bunny's employees and locked him down.

"A Pang grenade went off in my face," said Diggle laconically.

Oliver gave a wry smile at the pun. "So, that's really a thing, huh?"

"As it turns out," said Diggle with a slight inclination of his head. "For someone so small, she has a lot of pointy, sharp things on her body."

"It's kinda impressive she got the upper hand on you," noted Oliver.

"You ever tried to contain a hand grenade blast? There are a lot of tiny things flying everywhere all at once. You're going to lose some flesh. There's no way around it."

"How did Roy go with the encounter?" asked Oliver curiously.

Diggle pondered the question for a moment. "I think it was oddly cathartic for him in the end. Just wish there had been fewer losses on the extremities front."

Oliver gave him a sharp look. "Who lost extremities?"

"Athol, our informant. Two of them, a finger and a toe, although, to be fair, the finger one really wasn't our fault."

"Removing fingers and toes to get information, that's something we're doing now?" asked Oliver in concern.

"The toe was a Roy accident – think frozen chicken homicide, but with toes and a free basing knife. The finger, that was Pang, with Ross starting things off." He shook his head, keeping his attention on the road. "That woman is so very, very pointy… pointy and slashy." Diggle shot Oliver a quick look. "Remember that if you ever meet her. They're two very important facts to retain for easy access in the future."

Oliver slumped back in his seat at the news of Bunny having some kind of deranged, knife wielding nut job as his right hand man… woman. "God, does my life have to consist of nothing but sociopaths and lunatics?"

"None taken," said Diggle dryly.

"Not you, obviously."

"Just Thea, Felicity, Roy—"

"Okay, okay, not them, either. Just, you know—" Oliver waved his hand around moodily, "everyone else."

"So glass… half empty tonight, huh?" Diggle indicated to turn left. "I mean, more than usual."

"Finding out one of your employees has been brutally murdered doesn't exactly put you in the best frame of mind," said Oliver darkly. "I'm not a big fan of violent deaths for the people who work for me."

"Speaking as your driver come bodyguard, I'm thrilled to hear that." Diggle's jaw hardened. "But it's a real shame about Carter. He didn't deserve that."

"No one deserves what the Optometrist is handing out," said Oliver grimly. "As soon as we lock down Ross and Gutz, we take this guy out."

"Agreed. Now, I've told you about my day, you going to tell me what is going on with you and Felicity?"

Oliver looked at him quickly. "Has she said something to you?"

"No, but the brief amount of time I saw you two together today, it was painful."

Oliver scowled fiercely. "Painful how?"

"Like you were both trying to out polite each other. It was weird, and unsettling. What happened last night? And don't say nothing, because I know nothing, and it was obviously something."

Oliver wanted to burst into hysterical laughter at that question. Diggle was right, everything had happened. He returned his gaze to steadfastly looking out the window. "I don't want to talk about it." Oliver actually still didn't quite trust himself to be able to talk about this rationally. This wasn't a big deal he informed himself sternly. He wasn't going to make it into a big deal.

"Okay."

Diggle made another left hand turn, the silence in the car deafening.

"Felicity's married," blurted out Oliver abruptly.

That earned him a surprised sideways look from Diggle. "Married?"

"Yes," ground out Oliver.

"Felicity?"

"Yes," he said tightly.

Another silence. "Okay."

"I'm fine with it," announced Oliver, a little too loudly.

"You sound fine with it," agreed Diggle calmly.

"I am, I'm not going to make it into a big deal," insisted Oliver. "Because it's not. Felicity's married to another man, no big deal." He fixed a bright smile on his face. "See, I'm not bothered." Oliver turned to look at Diggle, the fake smile still plastered on his face. "Do I look bothered?"

"You look like you're having your prostate checked," said Diggle dryly. "Stop smiling like that. You look mentally unstable."

"I'm not," said Oliver sharply. "I'm just totally cool with the woman I'm in love with being married to some other prick… I mean person," he corrected himself quickly. "Person, she's married to some other person… which I'm fine with, because these things happen in life, and I'm not judging."

"Let's just take a step back here," said Diggle, stopping at a set of traffic lights. "Just how did this thing happen in the first place?"

Oliver quickly filled Diggle in, about Felicity's fighting with her mother, the drunken marriage proposal and ceremony, the non-divorce.

"Okay," said Diggle slowly. "That's quite… something."

"Felicity is really upset about all of this, and I want to be someone she can lean on through this."

"Mmhm. And how do you feel about this?"

"I told you, I'm fine with it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really?"

There was a brief silence. "Really?"

"Yes," said Oliver sharply, "because I have dropped some pretty horrible, soul destroying pieces of information about my past on Felicity, hell, half of that past have turned up here and tried to kill her, and she's just taken it all in her stride and been amazing about it. I don't get to not be amazing about her making a mistake when she was eighteen," he finished off hotly. "Felicity deserves for me to be understanding and supportive and anything else she needs."

"Yes, Felicity does deserve all those things, but that isn't what I asked you," said Diggle quietly. "I asked how you felt about Felicity being married?"

Oliver stared at him. "I told you."

"No, you told me how you should feel," pointed out Diggle. "Not how you actually feel."

Oliver swallowed hard, huge emotions threatening to swamp him. He tried to stall, needing more time to collect himself. "How would you feel if you suddenly found out that Lyla was married?"

"Lyla was married."

Oliver cast him an annoyed sideways look. "Lyla was married to you."

"That wasn't the question. Now, stop trying to sidestep my question. How do you really feel about Felicity being married to another man?"

"I have to be okay with it," said Oliver hollowly.

"And the way to be okay with something is to talk about what you're not okay with, and get it out of your head."

Oliver just stared ahead, not wanting to release all these feelings he had inside of him on Diggle. He should be able to handle this on his own. Felicity always seemed to be able to. She just rolled with whatever piece of information he gave her about his past, and with the secrets in his past, that was no small thing. How could she make it look so easy, and why was he finding it so hard to do the same?

"You want to know what I think?"

"Yes." Anything to hold off on giving voice to all of these churning emotions.

"I think you've put Felicity up on a pedestal."

Oliver gave him a sharp look for that observation. "What, no I haven't."

"Yes, you have and now you don't know how to deal with the fact that she's human, and makes mistakes like the rest of us."

"That's ridiculous," said Oliver hotly. "I know Felicity is utterly human, her humanity is what I love about her."

"You've cast yourself as the screwed up, emotionally scarred and psychologically damaged one in your relationship and Felicity as the grounded, breath of fresh air which floods your dark, misery filled life with sunshine."

Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but Diggle sent him a pointed look and he was forced to swallow his denials.

"And now you've discovered that your sunshine has a few dark spots and you're reeling."

"Nothing I'll ever learn about Felicity's past will change how I feel about her," said Oliver forcefully, "nothing."

"Then that's a shame."

Oliver gave him a confused look. "What does that mean?"

"It means that our feelings and understanding of the people we love should change and evolve over time. How I feel about Lyla when we were first married isn't how I feel about her now. Admitting that doesn't take away anything from the way I was in love with her back them, but it gives everything to the way I love her now. I've learnt so much about her, about me since then, good and bad, and that's important. Love stories shouldn't be written in concrete, Oliver, there is no give in concrete. It should be written in tensile steel, forged under extreme temperatures, but all the stronger and more flexible because of it." Diggle slowed down to let a car merge in front of him. "Oliver, you're allowed to feel crappy that some other man married Felicity before you could and has now suddenly turned up on the scene again. That's an emotion you're entitled to. It isn't one you should set up camp in, but if you don't let yourself feel it, eventually it's going to come out as resentment down the line, and that isn't fair to Felicity."

"I've made so many mistakes in my life, John," said Oliver softly, his eyes full of pain. "So many things I was scared for others to know, because I didn't want the people I cared about to think less of me." He turned to look at Diggle. "And none of you did. It was amazing, liberating, it helped me become the man I am today, that kind of acceptance and support. I want to be able to give that to Felicity. I need to be able to give her that."

"And you have, and will continue to do so, just don't pretend that this doesn't affect you, because I know it does. Felicity doesn't want to be on that pedestal you've put her on. It's too much pressure for her, for anyone. You have to let yourself deal with the fact that Felicity isn't perfect."

"I know she's not perfect," said Oliver in vague irritation.

"Logically you do, because no one is, but you still find it hard to believe she could do any wrong, ever."

"Which would be crazy of me," said Oliver unhappily, even though he couldn't bring himself to actually deny it.

"It would be you confusing Felicity being perfect versus her being perfect for you. Don't let one bleed over into the other, because it's only going to create heartache for you both." Diggle shot him a quick look. "Now, tell me how you really feel about Felicity being married?"

Oliver swallowed. "I hate it," he ground out. "I hate that I wasn't the first man who gets to ask her to marry him."

"From that story, you will be. Didn't you say it was Felicity's idea?"

Oliver scowled. "That's even worse. Felicity had the idea of marrying that guy somewhere in the back of her head, otherwise she wouldn't have thought about it. I mention going forward in our relationship, and she practically runs from the room screaming."

Diggle shot him a skeptical look. "Really?"

"Okay, not really," grumbled Oliver. "But she still hasn't told me she loves me."

"Do you have doubts about her loving you?"

"No, I don't. I know she does, which makes me all the more crazy she won't just come out and say it."

"Because?"

"Because I must be failing her in some way that she's holding back from me."

"Or it's Felicity issue, and nothing to do with you."

Oliver looked at him in surprise.

"This is me going back to my original statement – you tend to look at Felicity as perfect and not able to put a foot wrong in your relationship, and you're the one with something to prove."

"Something to prove?"

"To yourself, to her, that you're not Ollie the idiot who tramples women's hearts with gay abandon."

"But I was that guy," protested Oliver. "I need to make sure Felicity believes that."

"Is she jealous of other women around you? Is she insecure and asking for reassurances about your feelings for her?"

"No, but—"

"Then don't you think it's a reasonable assumption to make that Felicity doesn't need any more convincing that you're not emotionally irresponsible, slutty Ollie these days?"

Oliver hesitated. "Ahh…"

"And that she might be dealing with her own issues about having a serious relationship, period. You two, you're not having this relationship in a vacuum, and Felicity has always been about damage control in Team Arrow. She makes the things you want possible, to keep us all safe, get us home again. It's her default to consider all the angles. Let her consider all the angles, and not make it all about you. This is Felicity's process, and right or wrong, valid or not, she needs to do it at the pace she needs to do it at. It doesn't mean you're doing anything wrong. Hell, it doesn't mean you're doing anything right either, just that she needs to do what she needs to do to feel at peace with the two of you and all the possible ramifications. It's not about her being perfect to your imperfection, it's about joining your separate neuroses and insecurities into a functioning relationship that can handle both of your damages." Diggle stopped at another set of lights. "Okay, one more time, how do you really feel about Felicity being married?"

Oliver seriously thought about that question, after having listened to everything Diggle had said. "I'm disappointed I'm not going to be the first man married to Felicity, and that she didn't feel like she could tell me sooner," he said slowly. Oliver knew plenty of people had wonderful second marriages, that wasn't the issue for him. Diggle had been right, he'd been putting Felicity and their relationship on some kind of pedestal, assuming now that he'd found the perfect girl, everything was going to be perfect. He hadn't realized he'd been doing it, but he had. That was a big part of the reason finding out Felicity was already married came as such a big shock to him, and that shock had lingered. In the fantasy he'd built up in his head, these things weren't meant to happen, and if they did, it was meant to be him putting flies in their relationship ointment, not Felicity.

"Okay."

Rethinking their entire relationship in light of all Diggle had said made Oliver realize something. "But it makes me happier than I've ever been in my life knowing that I'm going to be the last man married to her."

Diggle smiled broadly as he turned into the street before Verdant's. "That's my boy," he said proudly.

"I love her, Digg, and all this has done is made me love her more," said Oliver sincerely.

"As it should do," said Diggle firmly. "Just don't try and pretend you don't feel the way you do. That's where you hit issues, suppressing your feelings."

"It's a coping mechanism."

"I know, trust me, I know," said Diggle seriously. "We're both soldiers, there are certain things you have to push down to do what we do, but we also have to make sure we don't push everything so far down we can't feel things like we should. That isn't going to protect anyone. Least of all the people we love."

Oliver gave a wry shake of his head which Diggle caught.

"What, what was that for?"

He gave a lopsided smile as the older man turned into Verdant's street. "I was just thinking it's a shame Verdant wasn't further away otherwise you could have solved that pesky Middle East crisis that's been going on for a while now as well, what with all the pearls of wisdom you're handing out tonight."

"Hey, my advice is like the pamphlets being handed out by guys dressed as giant chickens at food chains – you don't have to take it."

Oliver's smile became full-fledged. "Why wouldn't I take it? It's great advice. Thank you, John. I know you've got better things to do then be my Agony Aunt."

"I like the sensible shoes which come with the job," deadpanned Diggle. Abruptly a scowl came over his face.

Oliver followed Diggle's line of vision to see a swarm of police cars and an ambulance out the front of Verdant.

"I do not like the look of this," said Diggle in a low voice.

"Me either," said a grim faced Oliver.

A uniformed police officer stepped out in front of them, and waved them off to one side where the road had been cordoned off.

Oliver was already undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the car before Diggle had brought the vehicle to a full stop. He walked directly over to the officer, pushing his way through the throng of people, a lot of them looking like they were from the club, but all of them wanting a closer look at what was going on. Oliver caught the attention of the officer who'd waved them to one side. "What's happened?"

"Sir, we're going to need you to stay behind the police tape."

"I'm Oliver Queen, that's my club," he said tersely, then corrected himself, "my sister's club. I need to know what is going on."

"I'm sorry, sir, but we're locking down a crime scene here. You really need to stay here, and someone will come and get you when they're able." The officer seemed to guess Oliver wasn't going to go quietly on this one. "And if you try to get across this line, then I'm going to arrest you for being interfering with police business at a crime scene." That warning was delivered with a hard, pointed look.

Oliver's hands balled into frustrated fists at being dismissed, but then there was a heavy hand on his shoulder, and Diggle was addressing the man who clearly intended on being a problem. Diggle used his most commanding voice. "I'm John Diggle, I run Mr. Queen's security, and am involved with Verdant's security as well. I think you might want to talk to me."

The officer gave a quick look over his shoulder, and looked momentarily uncertain.

"Why don't I just tell you who should have been on duty tonight," offered Diggle. "You can gather the basic intel while the detectives do their thing." He gave Oliver a calm look. "Why don't you wait for me in the car, Mr. Queen? I'll report back to you as soon as I have some information for you."

Oliver could see Diggle's intention in his eyes, and he gave a short nod, turning around and disappearing back into the crowd. While Diggle distracted the police officer, Oliver looked for another, less guarded way across the barricade. His eyes darted back and forth through the crowd of people, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on. Oliver reached for his phone, intending to ring Roy who should have been in the club at the time. He might have a better idea of what was going on. Suddenly Oliver caught a flash of red through the body of onlookers. His heart skipped a beat at the familiar color. Pushing hard through the people, he made it to the police barrier again, this time closer to the side entrance of Verdant. A group of police officers were standing in front of the alleyway which led to that entrance, and they all moved off to one side at the same time, and that afforded Oliver his first proper look at the scene. Lying in the alleyway was the figure of a person, a small person, most likely a woman. Oliver couldn't see who the woman was, because she was covered in a red coat.

Felicity's coat.

Oliver knew that coat anywhere. It was her favorite. The oxygen left Oliver's lungs in a rush, his chest constricting painfully. He leapt over the barricade and sprinted towards the crumpled figure lying in the alleyway. A police officer tried to intercept, but Oliver tossed him over his shoulder like the man weighed nothing. His pace barely slowed as he raced towards that body covered in the red coat. It wasn't Felicity, it couldn't be. Somewhere inside his head a voice was screaming at him, telling him that this wasn't happening, but Oliver couldn't take his eyes off that coat, fear swamping every other thought. Other police officers had seen him now, and they were moving to intercept him. Oliver dropped his shoulder and barreled into the first one, knocking him off his feet, and fully prepared to fight his way through the others to get to her side. Felicity wasn't dead, she couldn't be. That wasn't her. Oliver felt his whole body begin to shake as two police officers moved to tackle him now. "Felicity!" he cried out, needing to see that red coat move, even a little bit, so that he'd know she was going to be alright. Oliver elbowed the first officer in the face as the other one wrapped his arms around Oliver's waist, trying to bring him down, but Oliver wasn't so easily stopped. He kneed the man in the ribs, causing a grunt of pain, even as another officer grabbed him from behind. "Felicity!" shouted Oliver, not caring how many men threw themselves at him, he wasn't going to stop, not until he could see for himself who was in that alleyway. Oliver surged against the men trying to bring him down, head butting the one who was reaching for his taser. The way they were trying to stop him, it only made the fear inside Oliver grow. He broke free of the three men attempting to bring him down, not caring who he hurt in doing so. Abruptly a hand was gripping his arm tightly, and Oliver's hand balled into a fist, ready to punch out this latest person looking to slow him down.

"Oliver, it's not her!"

Oliver stopped his hand from swinging through with the punch, but his fingers didn't unclench. He looked up at Quentin Lance, the older man's face lined with seriousness.

"It's not her," he repeated firmly.

"Felicity," croaked Oliver, not really able to trust himself to believe Lance, "it's her coat."

"I know, but it's not her," said Lance, his sternness finally cutting through Oliver's fog of fear. "Felicity is over there."

The older man's quiet words took a moment to penetrate Oliver's panicked brain, but then his gaze followed where Lance was pointing to. Through the throng of people bustling back and forth, Oliver caught a glimpse of the most beautiful sight in the world. It was Felicity, sitting in the back of an ambulance. Oliver pulled himself free of Lance's grasp and without a word, he just ran to her, not quite trusting what he was seeing, eyes never leaving her despite the people which he was forced to bob and weave through. Oliver ran up to the ambulance where Felicity was hunched over, a grey blanket around her shoulders, and a paramedic treating a nasty looking gravel rash on her left knee. She looked tussled and pale and underneath the blanket Oliver could see a lot of blood staining her clothes. The panic was back. "Felicity!"

Felicity's head jerked over towards him, and her face crumbled at seeing him. "Oliver," she choked out.

In an instance Oliver had his arms around her, holding her tightly to him. Felicity was shaking badly in his arms, and he just squeezed her even more tightly. "What happened? Are you alright?" Oliver drew back to cup her face with an anxious hand, examining the abrasion on her face, pulling back the blanket to look for the wounds which were responsible for all of that blood. He couldn't find any on first inspection, but that didn't lessen his anxiety. Oliver looked back at Felicity's face, and the pale flesh was already beginning to bruise. He looked at the paramedic treating her. "Is she alright?" he asked urgently.

"She's going to be fine," said the older woman with a calming smile. "Felicity just got a couple of scrapes and bumps. She was very lucky."

"Are you sure?" pushed Oliver. "I think she should go to hospital, be checked out properly. All this blood—"

"It isn't mine," said Felicity in a tiny voice.

Oliver wanted to believe that, but he didn't know what had happened to her. He just wasn't willing to take any chances when it came to Felicity's wellbeing. "Felicity—"

"I don't want to go to hospital, Oliver," said Felicity shakily.

"And you don't need to, honey," said the paramedic, patting her leg. "Not if you don't want to."

Oliver look of concern deepened. "Sweetheart, we should take you to hospital, just to be absolutely sure you're okay. I need to know you're not seriously hurt."

"I just got pushed to the ground," said Felicity unsteadily. "I don't need a hospital."

"But you could have a brain injury, or a skull fracture," fretted Oliver, unable to let it go. "Those things aren't always obvious in the beginning. If your brain starts swelling, a hospital is the best place to be."

The paramedic shook her head. "Your bedside manner needs a lot to be desired, sir. Stop freaking out my patient."

Oliver grimaced, and immediately gave Felicity a contrite look. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Then please stop talking about swelling brains," Felicity pleaded with him. "I promise you, I'm fine."

Only Felicity looked anything but fine. She looked stricken and like she'd just been crying. Oliver stroked her face. "Felicity, what happened? Who's in the alleyway?"

Fresh tears filled her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, one teardrop escaping down her cheek.

Oliver gently wiped it away. "Felicity, sweetheart, what happened in that alleyway?" His insides were churning. Oliver was terrified about what he was about to hear, but he had to know.

Felicity took a deep, unsteady breath. "I-I was in the street and about to make a phone call, but then I heard a noise in the alleyway."

"What kind of a noise?"

"I don't know, it was like this weird gurgle. I-I went to check it out." She stopped and her shaking started again in earnest.

A part of him wanted to scream at her for taking such a risk. Didn't Felicity know that if anything happened to her he wouldn't be able to go on? How could she put herself in that kind of danger? Instead Oliver buried what he knew was his fear and frustration over not being there for her deep down and stroked her hand. "It's okay, Felicity, just take your time." If someone had touched her, Oliver was going to go insane. He could feel it. They were telling him she was physically fine, but something or someone had traumatized her, and Oliver's mind was going to lot of dark places right then.

"Then this man just kind of jumped out at me," she continued on weakly. "It was so fast, I didn't know what was happening."

Oliver willed himself to sit there and keep listening when all he really wanted to be doing was punching walls, and then going out and finding this man and destroying him completely. But instead, he sat there, and let Felicity talk.

A/N: Okay, are you braced along with Oliver to find out what happened in that alleyway? Good. We're going to get a lot of on edge, protective Oliver in the next few chapters – hope that's not a problem for anyone. :D