A/N: Sorry for the wait for chapters but hopefully what I have plan for this story will make your patience worth it and secondly, I don't care about the time-space continuum stuff. This is fanfiction for a reason.
I don't have a set posting schedule. I post whenever I finish a chapter.
Oliver entered the foundry and froze immediately as he heard the familiar haunting sound of fingers typing away on a keyboard.
He ran down the stairs taking two at a time and came to a halt. The sound was echoing in his head, but the bunker was otherwise empty. Felicity's computers untouched by her for weeks.
He walked forward slowly and gripped the back of his chair, his chest aching with loss. The bunker was darker without Felicity's light brightening it up, without her warming the place with her smile and her belief in him and what they were doing.
The mission to protect the city felt lost without her. He struggled to find the point in saving a city of strangers when he hadn't been able to keep the woman he loved safe.
Oliver turned her chair and lowered himself into the seat, sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could see Felicity right in front of him smiling, her eyes shining with life and purpose. He could smell that light floral scent with a hint of raspberries.
And sometimes he could hear her voice before he hit the streets asking him to come back to her. The way she stood close to him, the way she looked at him, pleading with her eyes for him to stay.
He always came back. He asked Felicity to stay with him, and she couldn't.
Oliver bent forward, burying his face in his hands.
It's gonna be okay, Oliver. You will get through this.
Even now, he could hear her voice, but he knew it was his subconscious's way of dealing with his grief.
"No, no, I won't." he raised his head tears in his eyes, and he swore he could see Felicity standing in front of him, her glasses perched on her nose, hair in a high ponytail, lips painted pink, in a green blouse and one of her patented short skirts. "I need you here. I have always needed you here. With me."
The image of Felicity reaching her hand out, cupping his cheek nearly broke him. Her hand was cupping his jaw, but he couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel her warmth or the sense of home she always provided.
He was so lost in his hallucination, he never even heard Laurel enter the bunker or her heels on the steps. "Ollie, who are you talking to?"
As Laurel came into view, the image of Felicity faded.
Oliver washed a hand down his face. "What are you doing here?"
"I know you're having a hard time and I just thought we could get dinner, maybe talk. I mean, if there's anyone who can relate what you're going through, it's me."
Oliver pushed from Felicity's chair. "How could you possibly understand what I'm feeling?"
"I know what it's like to lose someone you loved." She reminded, her tone cajoling. "I lost Tommy."
Oliver gave a harsh, brittle laugh. "You wanted to move on from his death before he was even in the ground."
"It wasn't like that." Laurel protested with a look of hurt in her eyes, stepping closer. "You know things were complicated between all of us before he died. However, that doesn't change the fact that I lost someone I loved."
"You didn't love Tommy the way he loved you. He died because of you. He wouldn't have been in the Glades if it weren't for you. He would still be here if he hadn't gone to CNRI to save you when you had already been told it wasn't safe. You got him killed."
The rounding smack of her hand, striking him across the face echoed through the foundry.
Oliver glared, unmoved by the fresh sheen of tears in her eyes. "The truth hurts, doesn't it? You did not love him the way I love Felicity, so you couldn't possibly understand how I'm feeling."
"I know you're hurting and you're lashing out. I know you're being sucked into darkness, your grief is threatening to consume you." Laurel's voice shook. "I know you are being mean and cruel because it's easier to blame everyone around you then to accept you are never going to see Felicity again. And I know this person you're being right now, hurting the people closest to you is not what Felicity would want. If you want to honor her, be the man she believed in."
Oliver took a step back; her words effecting him more than a hit ever could. He turned away as she headed back up the stairs. "I'm trying," he whispered, clutching the back of Felicity's chair.
And that's what matters.
He felt a coldness sweep over him, and Felicity's scent filled his senses.
Oliver haunched forward and allowed the grief he felt every minute to take over, his failure to be the man Felicity believed in never more pronounced.
Or so he thought.
Two nights later, he came upon a scene that set his blood to boil.
A girl with honey blonde hair was pinned to the wet asphalt, struggling beneath the man straddling her waist. He was pulling at her clothes, as she pushed at him fruitlessly with her arms, her legs trapped beneath his weight, screaming for help, pleading for him to let her go, begging him to stop. A pair of spectacles laid cracked on the ground.
And for a flash of a moment, it was Felicity he saw fighting, struggling to get away.
It was Felicity he heard crying out for help.
A moment of seeing her in danger was all it took. Oliver wouldn't fail Felicity again.
He moved forward, yanking the man from her by his arm, so hard and quick there was a sickening pop as the man's arm tore from its socket.
The would-be rapist gave a cry of pain as the blonde girl grabbed at her torn shirt with one hand and searched the ground for her glasses with the other, the rain pouring down making her fingers slip.
"What the fu-"
Oliver cut him off, throwing him head first into a steel dumpster.
He didn't care that the man was dazed after as he crouched over him and slammed his fist again and again into the scumbag's face.
He could hear Digg's voice on comms, telling him the man was down but it was like it was distorted, coming through a long tunnel and barely reaching him.
He felt his skin break with every punch, felt the pain in his knuckles, the burn in his arms, the man's groans of pain growing quieter with every strike, the crunch of bone doing nothing to absolve his anger.
"Arrow! That's enough!" he felt large hands hauling him back.
"I said that's enough!" John's face appeared in his vision, and his anger slowly ebbed. He glanced down at the bloody unmoving man and then to the girl who was struggling to find her glasses in the oncoming slaught of rain pouring down in a torrent, the high gust of wind doing nothing to help matters.
He moved toward her and grabbed her glasses, he reached his hand out, touching her shoulder, and she jerked back with a cry, terrified as she scrambled away.
"Hey, hey, I'm not going to hurt you," Oliver said softly. "I just want to help you." he gently placed the cracked frames in her hand.
The girl hurriedly slipped them on and held her shirt together. "You're the Arrow. You saved me." she looked past him, tears in her eyes, body shaking. "He was going to..."
"It's okay. He's not going to hurt you anymore." Oliver looked behind him to John, who crouched over the bastard. "Give me your jacket."
John looked up at him with a grim frown as he shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it to Oliver who caught it with ease, and gently draped it over the girl and quickly closed it around her. "You're going to be okay," Oliver promised.
"Thank you," she murmured shakily, voice full of gratitude and relief.
For a moment, he saw Felicity staring up at him, telling him she believed in him.
"We got a problem," John said, his tone grave.
Oliver looked at him. "What?"
John was silent for a moment, his next words heavy. "He's dead."
Oliver's eyes shot to the man, and he didn't feel remorse. Honestly, he couldn't feel anything for the man, but he felt like he failed Felicity again.
What would she say if she knew he killed when he didn't need to? When it wasn't necessary?
Would she still have believed in him? Would she have still seen him as a hero?
Would she have been able to still love him when he was no longer the man she saw in him? When he was a murderer once again instead of the hero, she had believed him to be.
Oliver leaned on his right elbow, a sheet resting low on his hips, watching as Felicity put on earrings in front of a floor length mirror. She wore a green dress the same color as his hood.
It had a primal urge building inside of him that was proud and possessive. "Are you sure you need to go to the office today?"
"Yes, I have a meeting with the HR department."
He caught sight of the gold glinting on her hand, and he smiled at the sight of her wedding band, he glanced at his hand that adorned his own golden wedding band.
He smiled, tossing the sheet away and climbed out of bed, walking up behind her he pressed his chest to her back and rested one hand on her hip and the other over her slightly rounded stomach, feeling their baby kick beneath his palm.
"I'm sure I have ways of convincing you to stay home with me. Naked. In bed."
Felicity chuckled tilting her head back against his chest as his lips pressed just beneath her ear and traveled down her neck. "Tempting, but I have to be there and don't forget, we have a doctor's appointment at two o'clock."
Oliver smiled against her neck. "I can't wait to meet her."
Felicity turned in his arms, draping hers around his neck. "Me neither. When you showed up in my cubicle with a laptop full of bullet holes, I never thought we end up here. Married with a baby on the way. Did you?"
"No, I thought I would save the city alone and die alone, and now, I'm still fighting for my city, but I am not alone I have you and as shocking as it is I'm happy."
Felicity smiled. "Me too." she pressed her lips to his.
The kiss started out sweet but quickly turned heated as Oliver nipped at her bottom lip. Felicity opened to him and moaned as he licked into her mouth, her stomach pressing lightly against his hard abs, his thumbs massaging slow circles in her lower back.
Oliver loved the taste of her mouth, her body pressed against his.
Felicity jerked suddenly, ripping her mouth from his. Blood slipped out the corner of her lips, dripping down her chin, her eyes wide with pain.
Oliver stumbled back in shock, seeing the arrow sticking through her chest. "Felicity!"
Felicity stumbled forward dropping to her knees, and Oliver was there catching her, one hand around her waist the other lacing with her fingers that curved around her stomach, their child protectively.
"Oliver." Felicity choked out more blood coating her mouth. "Why didn't you save me?"
Oliver's chest felt like he was being pried open by a pair of rib spreaders, he gasped painfully. "I wanted to. If I could save you, I would you have to know that."
"If you had, we could've had all this." Felicity struggled to get the words out, lifting a bloody hand to his cheek and cupping it gently. "We could have had everything. Helping the city, each other, a family. I could have been more than just one happy story. I could have given you more happy stories than you believed were possible."
"I'm sorry." Oliver felt like his heart was being shredded into tiny bits, and he was never going to be able to pick up all the pieces.
How had he gone from being happier than he believed was possible to wishing he was dead? Wishing he was the one who had an arrow in his chest.
"Felicity, I'm so sorry!" he wiped at the blood on her mouth. "Please, just stay here with me!"
His pleas fell on death ears as Felicity gave one last breath, eyes glazing over with nothing as her chest stilled completely.
"Felicity!" Oliver cried in anguish, clutching her to his chest. "Please, don't leave me. Not again." A cry of a wounded animal escaped him as he bent over her covering with his body, wishing it had been him.
Oliver jolted up, Felicity's name leaving his mouth on a hoarse shout, his breath came in fast and quick pants, sweat making his clothes stick to his skin and his chest pounded painfully against his ribcage.
He swung his legs over the couch, sitting on the edge, burying his face in his hands.
It's okay. It was just a dream.
Oliver's head shot up, and he stared across at the image that had haunted been haunting him for weeks.
Felicity stood in front of the coffee table, looking as beautiful as the day he met her, black pencil skirt, pink buttoned up blouse, hair pulled back into a ponytail, glasses perched on her nose.
But she wasn't real. Oliver knew that. His heart and his mind were playing tricks on him. Torturing him.
"It wasn't just a dream. You died. That part is real." Oliver wiped a hand down his face tiredly. "You're not really here. You're dead."
But you're not, and you're going to be okay.
"No, I'm not. I'm never going to be okay again as long as your gone," God, he was going insane. He was talking to a ghost.
Professionals would really have a field day with him.
Felicity's ghost smiled sadly.
You can't change what happened to me, Oliver. You have to move on.
Oliver sucked in a sharp breath, her words echoing in his head.
You can't change what happened to me, Oliver.
But what if he could?
What if he could go back and stop it?
What if he could save her?
He shot up from the couch, reaching for his phone he tossed on the coffee table.
There was someone he had to call.
He dialed a number he never had before. He didn't care that it was barely 4 in the morning. He didn't care what time it was wherever the man was.
If he could change what happened, that was all that mattered.
He waited with bated breath, pressing the phone to his ear, listing it to ring, one, two, three, four times, finally on the fifth ring. "Hello, Mate." A British voice answered.
"I need your help, Constantine."
Almost 24 hours later, Oliver was letting Constantine into Felicity's apartment.
"You look like Hell spat you out." Constantine greeted, brushing past him.
"I lost someone I care about very deeply." Oliver turned to face him. "I was hoping you could help me with that. You do spells and magic and all that weird shit. There has to be something I can to do to save her."
Constantine regarded him closely. "Your talking about changing what has already happened."
"It is possible?"
"Is it possible? Yes." Constantine answered. "Is it recommended? No. Time traveling. Changing the past. It has ramifications."
"I don't care. If there's a spell that would help me save her, then do it. You owe me that much at least."
Constantine was silent for a moment before finally speaking. "If I do this I can't guarantee everything's going to work out the way you want it to that part will be up to you. There's is a spell for sending someone back in time. I can send you back to save your friend; however, by doing so, you would be changing things, causing a disturbance in the timeline. you won't have any way of knowing if you made things worse."
"If you want to do this, you need to move forward with caution. There's no telling what consequences you may face for changing something that has already happened." Constantine warned.
"I don't care about the consequences." Saving Felicity was worth the risk. Felicity was worth any risk.
"Okay, then," Constantine would do the spell. He did owe Oliver one, after all. "Once I do the spell, you can only return back to your time once your task is finished. Once the life you went back to save is no longer in danger of being cut short."
Oliver nodded if he saved Felicity, then she would be alive when he returned. That was his priority.
Oliver watched as Constantine drew a large symbol onto the floor, he placed five candles around it in a circle.
"Step into the circle," Constantine instructed.
Oliver stepped through the circle and onto the symbol, turning to face Constantine as he mixed something into a bowl, whatever it was smelled.
"Last chance to rethink this, Mate," Constantine warned.
"Finish the spell," Oliver said sharply.
Constantine's eyes narrowed, and he started chanting.
Oliver didn't try to understand the words he spoke, though he knew it was Latin.
Suddenly, Constantine lit a match and threw it in the bowl, a loud popping sound followed with smoke billowing, and suddenly he felt like he was being pulled, yanked through time.
He shut eyes against the feeling.
"How the hell did you get here?!"
He snapped his eyes open at the demanding voice.
His voice and the familiar sound of an arrow being drawn.
Standing across from him was himself, eyes hard and unflinching, arrow knocked back, ready to shoot. "I will not ask again. What the fuck just happened?!"
A/N: Okay, so I went a different route than a speedster time traveling or the Waverider. Now, I'll admit I don't know much about Constantine and I don't know if he has the power to send someone back with a spell but for this story, I'm going with that.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter.