Hey all! Thank you so much for the love in the last chapter, I am so glad you all enjoyed it! I've gotten a whole bunch of Kudos/Comments/Follows/Favourites across Achieve of Our Own and . Thank you so very very much!

I am sorry I had to kill Donna, but I needed something to help with where I take Felicity.

I also wanted to take on the idea of Oliver's actual situation while he was away – granted I am changing the storyline to match my story but I hope his struggles come across in reading as similar as it was when watching him go through it on screen.

Chapter 6 – In the Shadows

Felicity had finally gotten Thea to sleep, the young girl clung to Felicity like she was a life raft, never wanting to let her go from the minute she had come through the front door.

Tommy lead Felicity into the Queen mansion, the eerie quiet sending her heart sinking even further than Felicity ever thought it could. It was almost instantly she found Moira and Robert in the sitting room, Detective Lance and a few other people she didn't recognise seated around them. You could hear a pin drop in the mansion from the other side it was so quiet.

Hers and Tommy's movement must have caught the attention of Moira and Robert who both looked up as they walked into the living room, Tommy's red eyes catching that of his father who was off to the side by the fire place. Moira was out of her seat instantly and by Felicity's side, bringing her into a tight hug – something that Felicity would never have though Moira Queen to do.

"Mrs. Queen…I'm so sorry…" Was all Felicity could say as she wrapped her arms around the woman's shoulders. Moira had known that Felicity and Oliver were very close friends, but that did not compare to losing a son.

It was Tommy's rough voice that pulled them from their embrace, "Has the coast guard said anything new?" He had already been at the Queen mansion in the morning, he and his father going straight there the moment they had gotten Robert's call. He had wanted to wait until he had some information before going to Felicity. He didn't want to upset if there wasn't anything concrete but he wasn't a stupid person, he knew when things weren't looking good.

Malcom – Tommy's father – moved closer to the group, clearing his throat, "They said the Gambit had sunk, they haven't been able to find any survivors. Said the storms over the last few nights would have made it impossible for anyone to survive, there were more rolling in as we speak." He placed his hand on Robert's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "They have called off the search. Oliver and the crew…they are gone."

Felicity scrunched her brow, sudden confusion coming over her, "It's been two days – how can they just call it off. What if he is out there? What if he is still alive? What it…" Tears had started to fall down her cheeks, her brain not understanding what was happening. Moira was almost at Felicity's side but Tommy was already on her, pulling her into a tight hug, her face almost crushing into his chest, her hands tangling in his shirt as she cried, his heart breaking for his friend. The soft crying from the rest of the group echoing in now quiet room

The Queen's had lost their son and brother.

Tommy had lost his best friend.

And Felicity had now lost her mother and her best friend.

Somehow Tommy was able to get Felicity over to the larger love seat, both of them sitting down, Felicity curled into his side. Detective Lance spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to disturb the grieving group. "Felicity…" The soft sound of Thea's voice pulled Felicity's head from Tommy's shoulder, the young girl looking more like a child than a teenager as she stood in the doorway of the living room.

Thea had hidden herself in her bedroom the moment her parents had told her about Oliver, she had yelled and screamed and cried and kicked them out, slamming her bedroom door before sliding down with her back to it, her knees tightly held against her chest as she cried.

Felicity stood instantly, reaching out for Thea who ran into her arms, more tears falling once again.

Felicity had guided Thea back to her room, the young girl had become inconsolable when she had seen Tommy's red eyes, something about seeing the strong man she had come to see as an older brother in tears meant that it was real. Oliver was really gone. Curling up on her bed, Felicity let Thea cry as much as she wanted, the gentle rocking and long hours of just holding her finally putting Thea to sleep.


There was a gentle rocking that surrounded Oliver, a soft movement that almost lulled him to sleep - a sleep he had thought he'd already fallen into. Because only in his sleep would this be happening. This dream - nightmare - that now surrounded him was going to be the end of him.

But then it stopped, the rocking stopped and he was suddenly feeling the hard ground below him.

Land.

He had somehow found land.

His eyes blurred from the sun, the salt water and the dehydration. The hazy outline of legs and boots came towards him before suddenly Oliver was being raised off the sand. His body hung loosely as it was carried, head down, feet dragging behind him, before his mind slipped, darkness taking over.

Oliver had no idea

He ached.

His entire body was almost like a dead weight as his senses slowly came back to him. There were muffled sounds of voices and movements around him but he couldn't place them at all. He didn't know if they were close or not, if they were female or male or if they were even speaking English. The harsh light against his eyes didn't help the haziness that was in front of him.

Oliver's head pounded, for the briefest moment he had thought they he and Tommy had gone out the night before and gotten so drunk he had blacked out. Oh, how he wished he had gotten black out drunk. Memories started to come back to him. The Gambit, the storm, the ocean sucking him under.

A voice was suddenly closest to him, Oliver blinked to try and clear the fuzz from his head. A blurry outline of a man stood in front of him, his deep voice echoing in his ear, "Кто ты? (Who are you?) Что ты здесь делаешь? (What are you doing here?)" Oliver blinked again, trying to understand what was being said. Slowly the voice came into focus, the man in front of him also coming into focus finally.

He stood in front of Oliver, dressed in all black, dark hair and an angry look on his face. "I don't…where am I?" Oliver didn't even recognise his own voice; it was harsh and sore.

"Кто ты? (Who are you?) Что ты здесь делаешь? (What are you doing here?)" The voice spoke again, harsher this time, more forceful.

Oliver had no idea what this person was asking him. "I don't understand…" His voice was a little stronger this time, a little more forceful.

But that was not the answer that the man wanted, anger bubbling over, Oliver felt the sudden connection of a fist against his face, his whole body moving under the force of the punch, it was not the first time Oliver had been punched in the face, he knew how to take that sort of hit. Expecting to hit the ground, Oliver braced for the contact that never came. It was then he realised that his hands were above his head, his shoulders suddenly aching from being in the hanging position, his hands had gone numb from the lack of blood supply. How long had he been hung by the wrists like that?

"Кто ты? (Who are you?) Что ты здесь делаешь? (What are you doing here?)" Once again, the voice asked, just as forceful as the second time.

But again, Oliver did not give the answer they wanted and so another punch connected with his stomach, the air rushing from his body, his lungs wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. "I don't…I don't speak… Russian…" He was barely able to get the words out, each punctuated with a breath as he tried to steady himself. Not only was Oliver trying to breath but the swinging motion from his chains were making him a little sick.

"Кто ты? (Who are you?) Что ты здесь делаешь? (What are you doing here?)" Again, the words were spoken to him. Oliver hadn't really ever been a man of patience and this guy really was on his last nerve. He was sore from the chains, the assaults and the boat crash. He was dehydrated and hungry. And just pissed off at this point.

Straightening his back, planting his feet on the floor, Oliver let his head poke out between his arms above his head, levelling his eyes at the man in front of him. With a new found anger, his voice roared through the concrete room, "I DON'T SPEAK RUSSIAN!"

The only reply he got was a growl from the man and then the blinding pain of a fist connecting with is jaw. The ache and the agony taking over his body, letting him finally fall to darkness.


"What are you doing in here?" Moira's voice echoed through the empty bed room, pulling Felicity from her thoughts, her head shooting up to the doorway where she noticed the Queen Matriarch. Felicity visibly relaxed when she noticed Moira standing there. "Oh Felicity, I'm sorry, we've just had a few young ladies trying to make their way into Oliver's room." Moira looked around the room, her sad red eyes taking in as much as she could. Felicity wanted to be shocked at her statement but considering the people who had come to Oliver's funeral, it didn't surprise her that many of them were there because they thought they meant more to Oliver than they did.

Thankfully, The Queen's – and Felicity – weren't stupid, they knew what Oliver was like, he slept around, he had his fun and that came with a lot of broken hearts and a lot of baggage. Some of that baggage seemed to think that it was their right to have come to the funeral, as long as they didn't make a scene, Moira and Robert didn't want to cause a scene themselves by kicking them out, plus as far as they knew, these people could have actually been friends with their son. But security had been placed at the staircase and in the floor of Oliver's bedroom once it was noticed that some had tried to make their way where they didn't belong. Thankfully for Felicity, Moira had mentioned a few people who were allowed around the mansion – Felicity was one of those people.

Felicity just nodded, looking back down at the photo in her hands, the three of them together, Oliver with his lips to her cheek, a smile visible on his face even though he wasn't facing the camera. Moira moved slowly into her son's bedroom, watching Felicity closely as she moved towards the bed, taking a seat beside Felicity. Oliver's bed dipped under the mother's weight, the only movement around them.

Moira was silent for a few moments, just looking down at the photo in Felicity's hands, watching as her fingers brushed against Oliver's smiling face. "He cared for you so much Felicity." Felicity looked up at Moira's face, her own eyes red and swollen. Felicity tried to smile, her lips barely turning upwards at her words. "You made him a better man. You should know that."

Moira had noticed that whenever Felicity was around Oliver – and Tommy – both acted like responsible adults, most of the time. She honestly believed that becoming friends with Felicity had shown Oliver he could be better than how he was. Although there were times that it was clear that even he had forgotten that but Felicity was the grounding force that Moira believed Oliver needed.

"I'm so sorry Mrs. Queen. I can't imagine what it must be like for you right now…" Felicity really didn't know what to say to Moira, what do you say to the woman who just lost her son? Felicity had spent a lot of time at the Queen mansion over the last week however most of that was with Thea or Tommy. It had taken a week to organise the paper work to say that Oliver had been declared dead and the funeral to be organised also and so she didn't get to see much of Moira and Robert during this time.

But Moira smiled briefly at Felicity, her hand coming to rest over Felicity's, "It's incredibly hard dear but I also know you are struggling yourself; Oliver may have mentioned that you had been closing yourself off the last few months yourself. Losing your mother and now Oliver… I know how much he means…meant…to you…" There was something strong about Moira Queen, but Felicity could feel Moira's hand shaking against her. "You know…I thought you and Oliver were-"

"Oh no!" Felicity cut off Moira, she didn't want her to think about her son and her that way when they had just had a funeral for him. "Oliver and I were just friends. I mean…it's not like he wasn't a good-looking man and a really kind person, anyone would be stupid to not want to be with him and when he smiled, it just made me feel…" Felicity closed her mouth sharply, realising that she was babbling. Moira Queen really didn't need to hear this about her son, who she had lost, having just buried an empty casket.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity looked over to Moira, "Oliver was my best friend. I miss him…" She looked down and back at the photo in her hands.

Slowly Moira rose from her seat next to Felicity, making her way over to the Oliver's dresser. Felicity just watched her, a little shocked and confused at what she was doing. "Just a word of advice, if you ever want to know about a man's secrets…look in his underwear draw…" Felicity's brow furrowed as she watched what Moira was doing, watching as she opened the top draw of his dresser, searching for something.

Thankfully, Moira didn't see the deep blush that had risen in Felicity's cheeks at the thought of going through Oliver's underwear draw, causing her to think about what he wore his jeans and then causing that thought to turn into imagining Oliver in only his underwear.

Moira turned back to Felicity, a small box in her hands. "I know that Oliver would have wanted to give this to you himself but I think you deserve to have this now." Taking her seat back on the bed, Moira handed Felicity the small box, "He went out with Thea a few weeks ago…something about wanting to buy you a birthday present…he came home with a bright smile on his face and I watched him put this in the drawer." Moira had no idea what was in the box, jewellery of some form but no idea what exactly.

Felicity turned the small box over in her hands, unsure of what he had bought her. Slowly she opened the box, finding something small staring back at her. A sudden watery laugh left her lips as she realised what was in the box. Slowly she picked up the small piece of jewellery, tears falling from her eyes again but her smile still small. "We went out for lunch last month, I pointed out this when we walked past the shop. God, he spent a fortune on this…" Felicity knew how much this piece of jewellery cost, that was why she hadn't bought it when she saw it.

In her fingers was small wavy industrial bar, the white gold glistening against the lights of his bedroom. Wiping the tears away from her cheeks, Felicity raised the bar to her ear, easily replacing the simple straight industrial piercing with the new one. "It was for your birthday Felicity; he would have loved to have seen you wearing it." Moira placed her hand on Felicity's shoulder, the two woman falling into easy silence as they both let their minds fall back to the man they both had lost.


He was lying flat against something hard; it wasn't the floor because his right arm was hanging lower than the rest of his body but whatever he was laying on was not soft like a bed. Slowly Oliver tried to sit up, his whole body aching, his ribs and chest protesting against all and any movement that he tried.

"I would not do that if I were you my friend." A gruff voice pulled Oliver's attention as he tried to sit up, the thick Russian accent causing his head to painfully shoot up in its direction. There across the metal bars of the prison cell he was in was another man, sitting almost peacefully on his 'bed' back against the wall.

He looked just a scruffy as Oliver felt. Slowly Oliver found himself sitting on the bed, his entire body ached as it slumped a little. Clearing his throat, Oliver tried to talk, "How long was I out?" He'd had enough black outs to know it had been more than a few hours.

"A couple of days..." the other man moved closer to the bars, "You're the first американский that has come here." The slight head tilt to the side and raised eyebrow was enough to make the man realise Oliver didn't know what he was saying. "American."

Oliver nodded, that was obvious considering it seemed as though everyone in that place spoke Russian only. Although he didn't even know where here was. "Where is here?" Oliver rubbed his hand over his forehead, instantly feeling the dry blood that had settled there, the gash was deep and fairly large, he hoped it would not scar.

The man stood, coming to lean against the bars, "чистилище" Again Oliver looked towards him, a raised eyebrow like he had had enough of this man's crap of speaking another language he didn't understand. "It means…purgatory. I've heard the others call it Lian Yu. Means the same." It was said with a shrug, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"How long have you been here?" Oliver finally found his feet, swaying slightly but had enough strength to stand by the man's side against the bars, his ribs ached.

"Six months, give or take." Again, the thick Russian accent made his comment sound so off the cuff, like he was used to his situation by now, a shrug along with his comment. A small moment of silence came over the men, before the man spoke again, "My name is Anatoly Knyazev." He raised his hand to Oliver through the bars.

Oliver met him easily, it was strange to be meeting someone who was being so polite given the circumstances they had found themselves in. "Oliver Queen." Oliver flinched inwardly at the sound of his own man, suddenly unsure if he should have said it, not knowing who might have recognised him. But thankfully it seemed as though Anatoly didn't recognise his name, that turned Oliver's cringe to a sigh.


Oliver had no idea how long he had been in this place, he had no idea how long they had questioned him and beat him, all because he couldn't answer the questions they asked. Mainly because they were still asking in Russian. But all that changed one day, Oliver had been strung up the same way as always, arms chained above his head, his body hanging limply.

"Кто ты? (Who are you?) Что ты здесь делаешь? (What are you doing here?)"

Oliver was really getting tired of those words; he couldn't answer even if he wanted to. He had lost found of how many times he had been asked the questions, questions he couldn't understand.

But today was different, today Anatoly was brought by his side, chained to the bars of the empty cell by Oliver's side. Oliver's face scrunched up, fear coming over him, unsure of what they were going to do to him. But the man spoke to Anatoly, motioning between him and Oliver. He spoke again, "Кто ты? (Who are you?) Что ты здесь делаешь? (What are you doing here?)"

Oliver glanced to Anatoly, watching as he sat up a little more, "He wants to know who you are and what you are doing here." Oliver blinked at the gruff voice of Anatoly.

Looking back at the man, Oliver sighed, "My name is Oliver and I don't know where here is." He waited for Anatoly to translate, the man once again looking between the two captives.

"Как вы нашли это место?"

Anatoly spoke again, "He wants to know how you found this place."

But Oliver shook his head, "My boat sank, I don't know how I got here. I swear, I have no idea where here is." He was begging, Oliver Queen was not the sort of person to beg but at that moment, the moment his eyes locked on to the long knife in his captors' hand, he would beg for anything. He would do anything; he would have even said he was a tapdancing flamingo if he was asked if he was one.

Against his better judgement, Oliver's body started to shake, the fear gripping him but was instantly over taken by the feeling of skin tearing, the agony he was feeling clouding all his senses as his cries echoed through the concrete room. The deep sound coming from his throat as the knife sliced through the skin, diagonally across his ribs under his left pec muscle. Instinctively Oliver's body tried to shrink away from the knife, the chains above his head rattling at the movement.

It felt like forever that the knife separated his skin, but just as it started it was gone, the throbbing pain taking over. Oliver's body laxed against his arms, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tried to calm his breathing down. It was the worst pain he had ever felt, in his entire life.

"Кто еще здесь с тобой?"

Anatoly had been quiet through the last few minutes, no doubt he had experienced his own painful memories of this man, Oliver didn't blame him for keeping quiet. Thickly his voice entered Oliver's mind, "He wants to know who else came to the island with you." He words spoken softly, unsure of if Oliver could even hear him.

Blinking back at the man, Oliver just sucked in breaths as he could, his mind running blank, not able to put any coherent thoughts together. He could feel the blood dripping down his torn shirt, any movements he made, made it feel like the knife was back in his body.

Letting his body drop a little more, Oliver felt his head drop back, darkness taking him over the minute he let his eyes slip closed.

Oliver blinked at the sound of a door opening, jerking him from his darkness, the pain in his ribs coming back to him like a freight train, sucking in his breaths and tightening his eyes shut to try and block the pain out.

The sounds of someone struggling were getting closer, grunting and more Russian he didn't understand. Suddenly the person who came into view in front of him was someone he did not expect to see. Fear ran deep through Oliver as he looked back at the captain of Gambit, Jason, the man looked like he had been through Hell, his was barely awake, his clothes torn, skin dry and cracked, he was bleeding from the head and there was no doubt that he had broken bones.

Jason found himself on his knees in front of Oliver, his eyes widening as the man's gun was raised to his head. Oliver fought against his restraints, trying to pull himself free so he could reach for Jason, the pain from his own wound seemed to slip away as he looked back at the man who had become his friend. Jason's whole body was shaking, fear matching Oliver's. "What are you doing?" Oliver had suddenly found his voice, fighting even more against his restraints, feeling them dig into his wrists, cutting deeper into his skin.

"Если вы пришли сюда один...тогда не имеет значения, если он умрет..." The Russian's voice pierced through Oliver like a knife.

"No…don't…" Oliver was begging now, pleading for his friend's life.

"If you came here alone...then it doesn't matter if he dies..." The voice was rough, the man who had only been speaking Russian looked back at Oliver, trying to gauge his reaction. Oliver blinked as he realised what was being said.

One last harsh tug on the chains that held Oliver in his position wasn't enough to stop what came next. "No…"

An explosion echoed through the solid concrete room, the light flashing before Oliver's eyes as he watched the man pull the trigger, sending Jason crashing to the ground, the bullet lodging into his skull. "NO!" Oliver's cries echoed through the now silent room; the image of his friend being shot forever etched into his brain. Slumping against the chains, Oliver let his head hang knowing his life would never be the same.

I'm sorry, I hate seeing Oliver hurt but I wanted to attempt it in a fic so the next few chapters will be interesting Please let me know what you think.