A/N: Because Detective Lance had a right to know, and Felicity always tells the hard truths.

Felicity was nervous as she waited by the entrance to the cemetery, two cups of lukewarm coffee clutched in her cold hands as she shifted from one foot to the other in an attempt to bring circulation back to her frozen feet.

He pulled to the curb ten minutes late, brows already drawn in concern and confusion. He'd undoubtedly recognized the address she'd texted him, asking her to meet him there that afternoon and had nothing but questions.

But when he approached, collar of his overcoat flipped up, hands shoved deep in his pockets he didn't say a word and she gulped, wondering for the hundredth time if she was making the right decision.

Her silence stretched on and finally he cocked his head and looked down at her, "Ms. Smoak, I've never known for you to be at a loss for words. I assume one of these is for me?"

He slid one of the cups from her and took a sip, grimacing at the taste and before she could protest plucked the other one from her as well to toss in a nearby trashcan.

"Now that we're past that, how 'bout you tell me why you brought me here."

His voice was even but she could hear the underlying strain and saw the way his eyes kept flicking over her right shoulder in the direction of Sara's grave.

"There's something I need to show you, Detective," she said as calmly as she could manage and before she could second guess herself she turned and began to walk, confident he'd follow.

In the past month Felicity had found herself visiting every few days and then suddenly one day a bench had appeared. She knew it had been Oliver's doing but she never mentioned it and neither did he. She'd never run into him but she knew by the fresh flowers he'd been there as well.

Lance's breath caught when he saw the bench, Felicity's eyes immediately filling with tears at the pain she was about to cause him. He didn't say a word as they approached but she could feel the mounting dread and she wondered if part of him didn't already know.

They sat side by side, staring at the headstone with the right name, but the wrong date.

"Why are we here, Ms. Smoak?" his words were hollow, causing a fist to tighten around her heart because he knew, he knew what had happened, but he was going to make her say it. Empirical evidence trumped everything.

"We're here because...because you had a right to know." she said sadly, "And I'm...I'm so so sorry."

The shuddering, raw exhale he made tore at her gut, tears dripping freely down her cheeks.

"She's...my baby girl...she's really there now, isn't she?"

All she could do was nod her head, throat too clogged to speak.

"Oh god,"

He sucked in a breath, his pain palpable and as much as she wanted to offer him comfort she didn't know how.

"Oh, Sara…" his mournful cry broke her, hot splashes coating the inside of her glasses but she didn't need to see. She knew exactly what her friend's grave looked like.

"How long?"

"A month."

"A month?! She's been here a month and no one saw fit to tell me!" she felt him leap to his feet and her head whipped to the right to see him pacing angrily in front of her, eyes never leaving the grave.

"It...it wasn't my place to tell." she stammered.

"Well you're telling me now, aren't you?" he replied angrily.

"Because you had a right to know! And I couldn't keep doing this! I couldn't keep coming here to talk to her and tell her what we were doing and know that you had no idea! I've had people walk out of my life and never return. The unknown is torture and I couldn't...I couldn't let you keep thinking she was alive."

She didn't know when she'd stood, just that she was only a few feet away as he turned hurt, wet eyes on her.

"Laurel? She knows?"

Felicity just bit her lip and dipped her chin, watching as he rubbed both hands over his closely shaved head and then scrubbed them across his face.

"She was worried...about your health...she-" but she didn't know what else to say, she'd never agreed with Laurel's reasoning.

He muttered something under his breath and moved closer, dropping to one knee to grip the headstone tight.

"I knew...I knew when she went off on that boat she wasn't coming back to me. I got one miracle but I knew if she left again…"

"She was a hero," Felicity said fiercely, "I know I didn't know her very long but I loved her."

He wiped a hand across his face and she saw his head bow, "Who did it?"

"We don't know yet. We thought it was Lacroix but...it wasn't." this was the part she'd dreaded the most; telling him they hadn't caught her killer.

After that he was silent and after a few minutes she moved backwards to sink onto the bench, not knowing if she should leave him to mourn or stay.

When he finally did rise he looked liked he'd aged ten years and a spike of fear ran through her, wondering if Laurel's concern hadn't been proven true.

"Thank you," he said low and quiet before walking past her without looking back.

Felicity waited until she knew her numb legs could hold her and made her way back to the lair, still unsure of how she'd tell Oliver and more importantly, Laurel what she'd done.

With her stomach in knots she shakily descended the stairs to find the space empty. Grateful, she almost fell into her chair and tried to keep busy.

Three hours later the sharp metallic bang of the upper door crashing off the wall made her jump and she instantly knew what was about to happen.

"How dare you!" Laurel's enraged voice filled the lair and Felicity shrank, shoulders dipping down for a second before she slowly turned in her chair to face her. "It was not your place! You had no right to tell him! That was my decision as the only family he has left! How dare you!"

She was furious. Red faced, tear streaked, eyes blazing with righteous anger she'd never quite quelled since Sara's death.

"Laurel...I-"

"No! I don't care what you have to say. You had no right!"

"He needed to know, Laurel. He was her father-"

"He's my father too!" she screeched,

"I'm sorry I upset you,"

"You upset him! The man who barely survived earlier this year and takes daily medication to stay alive. That's who you told that his daughter was dead. And if anything happens to him his blood is on your hands!"

Felicity gasped, stunned at her words, guilt rising within her.

"That's enough, Laurel."

Oliver's voice came from the shadows and both women spun to see him emerge from the darkness.

"No! Don't you come to her defense, Ollie!" she spat, finger pointed his direction.

"Laurel...I know you think you were protecting him."

"Yes, because I have to. Someone has to!" she stated angrily, whipping her head back to rage at Felicity again, "And you...sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. You need to learn how to stay out of things that don't concern you." it was the hateful, bitter tone that made Felicity gasp. She'd thought for awhile that she and Laurel might be able to become friends, but she was seeing the truth now.

Oliver took two more steps forward until he was between the two of them. She could see the long, tense line of his back, the way two fingers rubbed his thumb before he spoke. "She did the right thing. She did what you should have done a month ago, like I told you."

Laurel scoffed, angrily brushing away tears, "Of course you take her side. God forbid I get anyone anymore." she spun and had made it to the bottom of the stairs before she turned and locked her flashing eyes on Felicity, "I hope you're happy."

She didn't know what to say as she sat there stunned and hurt even though she'd known how Laurel was going to react.

"Thank you," he rasped and she stared at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"You did what she couldn't do...what I couldn't do. But it needed to be done." and when he turned her heart seized in her chest because his eyes...suddenly they weren't talking about Quentin.

It had been a month of careful conversations, of not getting too close, of finding their new normal and she'd hated every second.

She'd done what she had to. It didn't mean it hadn't hurt. It didn't mean she didn't wonder every day if she'd done the right thing. But he'd left her no choice. She loved him too much to let him drag her down with him and destroy any chance they had. She'd be on the other side though if he ever decided to join her, but it was up to him to leave the darkness behind.

There were glimmers though. Not enough to convince her yet. Not enough for her to say maybe because she couldn't live on that. But she thought she saw it when John brought baby Sara around. Just a glimpse.

"The bench...its nice," she said in reply and he looked honestly surprised, as if he hadn't thought she'd notice. "I go see her on Thursdays during lunch."

The invitation was out before she knew what she was offering and his tight, controlled nod let her know he probably had been aware of that all along.

Silently she gathered her things and left, resisting the urge to run her hand along his arm as she brushed by him.

Two days later she stopped by the same deli she always did and grabbed a salad before walking to the cemetery. It was cool but sunny and she wasn't hurt when the bench sat empty. As she ate, she talked, telling Sara how angry Laurel had been, how she hadn't been back to the lair since that night, but how the Detective had brought her a coffee that morning to make up for the one he'd thrown away and she knew that regardless of how things turned out with her and Laurel, he at least didn't blame her.

She'd already packed her trash away and was enjoying the warmth of the sun on her bare legs when the space next to her was suddenly filled. The breath caught in her lungs because she knew without turning that it was Oliver.

He didn't say a word, and neither did she. But when he reached over to take her hand the knot around her heart loosened just a bit.