A/N: I want to take a moment to say if you're looking for a story where Felicity's character is bashed, you won't find it in any of my fics. With that said I hope you enjoy the chapter.

"You must be desperate if you're coming to me for help. Don't you have a team back you up? What do you need me for?"

Felicity glared. "I'm not here to play games. If you're just going to make jokes, I will find someone who will help me."

"Alright, alright. I'm not going to turn you away. From what Oliver tells me you had a hand in helping me locate my son. I owe you." Slade said reluctantly, he looked at William. "Come on," he stepped aside, motioning for Felicity and William to come inside."

Felicity glanced around her, out at the night before placing a hand on William's shoulder, urging him inside, she followed close behind.

"How's Oliver holding up?" Slade asked, leading them further into his home, stopping in the living room.

William looked around before warily taking a seat on the couch.

"I wouldn't know I haven't been to visit him." Felicity's frowned deepened. "However, I know things are about to get worse for him."

"He's in prison. Things are already bad." Slade pointed out, turning to face her. "How much worse can they get for the kid?"

"Dad's not a kid." William protested.

Slade smirked. "He'll always be Kid to me,"

"Seeing as I made it look like William and I have been killed. It's gonna get a whole lot worse when the news of our deaths reach Oliver." Felicity admitted.

"Why the hell would you fake your death?!" Slade asked in disbelief.

"I'm trying to protect my son," Felicity's tone had taken on a hard edge. "As long as Diaz is out there, he will never stop trying to take him from Oliver."

William stared at Felicity in mild surprise. That was the first time he heard Felicity refer to him as her son, not Oliver's son, not her stepson but her son. It meant more to him than he thought it would.

Slade was quiet for a moment. "So you came to me for protection?"

"No." Felicity shook her head. "You held a sword to my throat. You've done things that should be unforgivable. I know you were under mirakuru, but it doesn't change all the bad you've done."

Slade frowned but didn't argue. "If I'm such a bad guy, why are you here?"

"You taught Oliver to fight, to protect himself, to be the warrior he is. I want you to do the same with me." Felicity clenched her jaw. "I refuse to let myself and William be nothing more than easy targets for Diaz. Oliver is in prison, he can't protect us. It's my job to keep our family safe. It's my job to make sure Diaz never hurts our son, but I can't do that. Not yet. But with your help, I'll be able to put an end to Diaz myself."

William's eyes widened. Was Felicity talking about killing Diaz?

"You want me to turn you into a killer?" Slade couldn't hide his surprise as he looked at her with new eyes. Appraising her with a fresh outlook.

"I want you to teach me to be strong like Oliver." Felicity looked down then back at him with a steely resolve. "I want to be able to make Diaz regret ever coming after my family. I want to make him pay for ruining my life."

Slade didn't think highly of many people. Hell when he first took Felicity hostage when he had been trying to make Oliver pay for Shado's death, he hadn't thought much of her. Slade believed her to be weak. He had been wrong. She was a lot stronger than she looked, and it appears that that hadn't changed because here she was willing to do anything to keep Oliver's son safe.

"If you really want me to train you, don't expect me to go easy on you." Slade couldn't believe he was going to do this, but he owed Oliver after everything, and maybe this was a way he could pay him back.

"If I wanted easy I wouldn't have come here," Felicity told him. "I came to you because you are ruthless and that is exactly what I need to be if I'm going to take Diaz down."

Slade nodded. "Alright, then, you and the boy will stay here during your training. I have plenty of room. We'll start your training tomorrow, bright and early."

Felicity's lips parted to reply but before she could get any words out William's voice cut through the air. "Felicity, can I talk to you," he cast a wary look at Slade. "alone."

Felicity nodded. "Excuse us."

"By all means, I need a drink, anyway," Slade said and walked out of the room into another room in the house. "Talk. I'll show you to the guest room after you have your little family talk."

As soon as Slade was out of the room, Felicity focused her full attention on William. "Look, Will, I know the situation isn't ideal but-"

"There's no 'but' about it," William interrupted. "This is crazy, Felicity!"

"Maybe it is, but I believe with Slade's help I can learn to keep us safe. We wouldn't need to go in witness protection. We won't have to pretend to be people we're not, and we wouldn't have to keep starting our lives over every time an enemy of your father finds us." Felicity argued.

"And you think killing Diaz is the right option?" William demanded.

Felicity winced. Okay, she definitely should not have brought that up in front of William. Yes, she wanted to kill Diaz, but she had no idea how to rationalize that to William, and she didn't want to set the example that violence was the answer. That killing was the answer.

What was she supposed to do, though? Just let Diaz keep coming after them? She couldn't see another way. Felicity hated it. She was always saying there was another way yet here she was and she couldn't find that other way.

"I think if I do nothing, Diaz is going to do everything in his power to punish your father and I can't let him hurt you. I won't. I don't want to have to kill anyone, but I will do what I have to if it means keeping you safe."

William didn't want to understand her reasoning but living with his father the past year and after witnessing Diaz shooting Felicity and blowing up their car to kill them. He did understand. Still, he hated it.

"I want to see my dad," he said, voice low.

Felicity's chest tightened at how lost he sounded. "I know. I want to see him too but we can't. It's not safe as long as Diaz is out there, walking freely. It will never be safe."

"He should know we're okay, Felicity." William protested. "He's going to think we're dead."

"If Oliver believes it then so will Diaz and the rest of the world." Felicity placed her hand on his shoulder. "I know you hate this. I do, too. I know how much this will hurt your dad, and that's the last thing I want to do, but I have to put your safety and well being first. I promise as soon as Diaz is no longer a threat, I will take you to see your dad myself the first chance we get."

"Yeah and how long is that going to take? Weeks? Months? A year?" William asked, his eyes hardened, but he didn't pull away from her.

"I don't know," Felicity answered. "I wish I had all the answers for you, but I don't. I am trying here, Will, and I need you to try with me. Please." she swallowed, her chest aching. "I need us to be on the same page if we're going to get through this as a family."

William looked at her and saw the barely concealed desperation and sadness in her eyes. "Okay, I'm sorry. This is just hard."

"Don't apologize for how you feel. I'm the one whose sorry about all this." Felicity pulled him in and hugged him tightly, hoping to convey that she didn't like any of this either.

William sagged against her. He hated everything about this, but he didn't mean to take it out on Felicity. He just wished things were different. William understood that this was how it had to be right now, but that didn't mean he had to like it. However, he wasn't going to take it out on Felicity either. Like she said they were in this together as a family.

"Touching. Really." Slade's voice drawled. "Now how about I show the two of you to the guest rooms so you can get settled in."

Felicity pulled back from William and glared at Slade. "Were you just listening in the whole time? Why did you even bother leaving the room if you were just going to eavesdrop?"

"Yes, it was my master plan to listen to your family dramatics." Slade deadpanned, he turned on his heel. "C'mon, you have a big day ahead of you, starting bright and early tomorrow morning. Tonight will be the only night you will be taking it easy for the foreseeable future."

"Are you sure about this, Felicity?" William asked uncertainly, his gaze following Slade.

"Not at all," Felicity admitted honestly before urging him forward, following behind Slade, hoping she wasn't making a mistake.

Diggle ignored the chime of his phone on the table as his fist connected with the punching bag again and again. He felt the sweat drip from his skin, saw the blood smearing the white tape on his hands. His muscles burned with exhaustion, but he kept going.

His aching body practically begged him to stop but he couldn't. Every time his mind was free to think beyond the strain and pain, all he could think about was Oliver, William, and Felicity.

He promised Oliver he would look after his family, that he would keep them safe. He failed him.

He wasn't there when Felicity and William needed him, and now they were gone. Killed by Diaz.

If he had been the one watching over them, maybe they would still be alive.

His phone finally stopped, only to start ringing again and he hit the bag, harder and faster.

"What did that bag ever do to you?"

He turned sharply, grabbing the bag to keep it still, his eyes settled on Curtis. "Is there something that you wanted Curtis?"

Curtis turned his head, looking at the table, hearing John's phone vibrate on the table. "Your Cell's going off."

"You didn't just come in here to tell me something I already know, did you?" Diggle moved to the table, grabbing a towel and wiping it down his body before tossing it onto the table just as his phone stopped buzzing.

"Well, no. I wanted to check on you. I know things haven't been easy since we lost William and Felicity."

"I don't want to talk about that," John said abruptly, picking up his phone seeing he had 4 missed calls from Lyla. With a pang of guilt, he sent her a text, telling her he was going to be home late again. "And we didn't lose Felicity and William. Diaz took them from us."

Lyla so far had been understanding of his need to stay busy, but he didn't want to reach the point he was taking advantage of that; still, John wasn't ready to go home. Being home with his family made his guilt, his sense of failer sharper. He still had his family, but Oliver's family was gone.

"Have you at least told Thea about what happened?" Curtis asked. "I know you told Oliver, but his sister has a right to know what happened to Felicity and William, too."

"I am not going to tell Thea over the phone that her nephew and her sister-in-law were blown up in a car bomb after Diaz attacked them in their safe house," John responded tersely.

"What about Donna? Have you told her?" Curtis questioned.

John looked at him and said nothing and his silence was more than enough answer for Curtis.

"John!" Curtis threw his hands out. "What the hell are you doing? She is Felicity's mother! she has a right to know."

"I know that," John said. "But I don't want to be the one to tell her that her daughter's dead. I don't want to be the one to break her or Thea's hearts. It was bad enough that I had to tell Oliver that his wife and son are dead."

Curtis was quiet as he looked at John, he could see the pain in John's eyes with every mention of Felicity and William's names. "I don't think that's it. I think the reason why you don't want to tell Thea or Donna is that it makes it more real. But John, you have to tell them, someone needs to hold a service for them. Felicity and William deserve that at least, and none of us are going to be able to move on if we never say goodbye the way you're supposed to when you lose a friend or a loved one."

John looked at Curtis, his eyes hardening before grabbing his phone and pushing past Curtis. "Goodnight Curtis."

Curtis shook his head when John was no longer in sight. John wasn't accepting their new reality. Curtis didn't think he was coming to terms with Felicity's death and it was not good for him or any of them.

None of them were going to be able to move forward if they did not accept that Felicity and William were dead and they were never coming back, and they had no one to blame but Diaz for their deaths.

Lyla stepped into the rundown bar, looking past the Thursday night crowd, finding her husband's hulking frame seated at the end of the bar.

She made her way to him, sliding into the seat beside him.

"I'm married."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Nice to know you remember you have a wife at home."

John's eyes shot to her, not realizing the woman that had slid in beside him was his wife, he hadn't even bothered to look away from the shot glass in front of him to take the few seconds to see she wasn't some random woman in a bar. He turned back to his shot glass, gripping it tightly in his hand. "I would ask how'd you find me, but you're you, and you always know."

Lyla looked at the four empty shot glasses in front of her husband and the one in his hand filled with an amber liquid. "Johnny, you can't keep doing this." she reached for his free hand, the blood had dried on his knuckles where they had split during his harsh training session with the punching bag.

John said nothing.

"Do you think Felicity would want this?" Lyla continued.

John's eyes shot to hers. "Felicity doesn't want anything anymore. She can't. She's dead."

"Johnny." Lyla could see the pain in his eyes he tried to mask. The grief threatening to break free.

"I don't know what to do here, Lyla. This feels like when I first lost Andy, but somehow this is worse. How is that even possible?"

"Felicity and William were your family. You didn't share blood with them, but you chose Felicity to be your sister, you loved and protected her." Lyla placed her hand on top of his arm.

"I didn't protect Felicity," John said, his words sharp, an recrimination against himself. "If I had, she would still be alive. I wouldn't have had to tell my best friend, my brother, that his wife and son are dead. I wouldn't have to wake up knowing Felicity would still be alive if I had just been there for her."

"Punishing yourself, burying your grief in the bottom of a shot glass is not going to do any of us any good. And placing the blame where it doesn't belong will accomplish nothing. Diaz did this, not you." Lyla reached out, forcing her husband to look at her. "Diaz killed Felicity and William, not you so stop punishing yourself. Blame him."

John exhaled shakily, her words hitting him hard.

"I know your hurting, Johhny." Lyla continued. "But this is not what Felicity would want. She would want us to take down Diaz, and that is what we will do. We'll get justice for Felicity and William by taking down Diaz and bringing him to justice. That is what Felicity would want. Okay?"

John looked at his wife, seeing the way she was looking at him, he knew she was worried, and if their roles were reversed he'd be worried too, and he would want her to at least try and listen. "Okay." he drained the last of his shot and stood from his seat. "But there's something I need to do that I put off long enough."

He had to tell Thea and Roy. He had to tell Donna. And they had to plan the service to officially say goodbye to Felicity and William.

None of it was going to be easy. John just hoped they were all strong enough to get through it.

Oliver's knuckles ached, the flesh torn and bloody, but the ache in his hands was nothing compared to the gaping chasm opened in his heart.

The pain tearing at his heart, his chest, every nerve ending in his body was constant, overwhelmingly so. Threatening to consume him entirely.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his son and his wife, bleeding out on the floor in front of him, reaching out to him. Screaming for him.

And he could do nothing but watch them die. Watch them slip between his fingers leaving him cold, alone and broken beyond repair.

His fist cracked against the stone wall, he couldn't see the blood dripping down his hand being surrounded by darkness, but he could feel the warm liquid, slipping slowly down his skin.

He did it again, the pain feeling him with a sense of relief. With every day, every hour that passed by knowing his son and his wife no longer existed in the world, he felt himself shut down, growing colder. Feeling the pain, physical pain was better than the pain he felt in his chest every second, of every minute.

He was surrounded by darkness, having been thrown into the hole not long after John told him about Felicity and William being killed. He had attacked another inmate who had made a comment about his hot blonde wife paying him a visit.

He lost it, all he could see was red, he had attacked the guard that was escorting him, breaking free and then attacked the inmate brutally, breaking his leg and smashing his head into the wall again and again and again until a group of guards had pulled him off, dragging him away.

Shortly after he had been thrown into a dark cell. Not a single ray of light. It was fitting.

The light of his life was gone.

What was the point of everything? What was the point of surviving five years in hell, finding and falling in love with his soulmate, learning about his son if they were going to be ripped from him?

Why did he keep trying to be a force of good in the world when it was clear to him that the world ruined everything worth having, took the ones who deserved to live away.

What was the point because he sure as hell couldn't see it.

What kind of world was worth saving when the bastard who took his family, walked free?

It was so clear to him now, nothing in this world was worth saving. Not any more and he was fucking done trying to save it.

Diaz took everything from him, and now it was his turn.

He would avenge his family. He was going to kill Diaz, he didn't care what he had to do.

It was his only mission. He was going to make sure it was a slow, painful, excruciating, agonizing death. He would make damn sure the only thing Diaz will know in his last moments was misery and pain, begging for death. And Oliver was going to watch as he bled out, the life fading from his eyes.

Only then would Oliver be done. Really and truly done with everything. Done hurting, done feeling, done suffering, done sacrificing, and done living.

He would finally just be done.

Until then all he would know was violence and blood, and he had no problem inflicting it on others, make them feel his pain, his misery. His suffering.

The Oliver Queen, the world knew, the Green Arrow was gone leaving behind a man who had lost everything with one single goal.

Revenge.

A/N: Thanks for reading!