Alright, here's the second chapter! I realize that it's been a while since I published the first chapter... wow, about a month. Oops. I'll try to do better, but no promises since exams are this week (wheeee).

Speaking of Arrow, anyone watch that midseason finale? Oh hawt damn that episode was cray-cray (alright, I'll stop).

Anyways, here's the chapter. Oh, and as a tidbit, most of my chapters will be about 1,000 words. I find it keeps it short enough to not lose attention but long enough to carry a plot and details and stuff. Some will be longer than others, and some shorter. Yeah. Enjoy!

Oliver looked at himself in the mirror. He fidgeted with his tie, delaying himself as much as possible. He wanted this day to be over already – or better yet, just not happen. He wasn't normally the kind of person to run away from something, but he wanted nothing to do with this funeral.

Felicity had offered to go with him for support, but he turned her down. If they spent too much time together, it would raise suspicions. Diggle had also offered, but Oliver turned him down too. It would easier to maintain a poker face without people reminding him of his failure. If he could prevent Laurel from going, he would. But his… he wasn't quite sure of what Laurel was to him, or he to her. But she wouldn't even listen to Oliver's argument. Tommy and Laurel had dated, and he had died saving her. Of course, she would go.

And she would be the biggest reminder of all. Her sister, her ex-boyfriend. Who else would Oliver take away from her?

Sighing, Oliver left his house and hopped into the back of his car, letting his chauffeur drive him to the funeral. He closed his eyes in an attempt to meditate, but his mind kept flashing back to Tommy's death. He hadn't even had the guts to tell his best friend that he had killed his father.

After a short drive, Oliver was at the funeral. Most of it past in a blur. Reporters were there despite the attempts to keep them out. Oliver gave them answers that were vague enough to satisfy himself and the reporters. Of course, they asked about his mother and her involvement, but he easily dodged the question. He had seen Laurel from across the room several times – along with her father, Detective Lance, whom he was glad to see in one piece – but he hadn't had the courage worked up to talk to her. Crazy – or maybe not – how a playboy who confronted armed killers at night was afraid of a woman.

When he saw that Tommy's casket was relatively alone, Oliver approached cautiously. He looked down into the lifeless face of his friend and felt another pang of regret run through his body. I'm so, so sorry he thought to Tommy. I'm sorry that I let you die and that I killed your father. He wanted to do something, to say something. But what could he say? It wasn't like Tommy could hear him anyway.

The time came for Tommy to be lowered into his final resting place. Oliver stood next to the casket as it began to lower. Across from him, he could see Laurel fighting tears but failing miserably. Her father held an arm around her, trying to comfort her. If he had been faster in beating Malcolm, he would have saved Laurel and Tommy. But now they were both gone.

Oliver left the funeral as soon as it was over. Seeing Laurel had been harder than he thought, especially knowing that she should have never had to attend Tommy's funeral. He met Diggle at the car, and his friend seemed to know not to question Oliver on whatever happened at the funeral. Diggle merely sighed as he drove, back to Oliver's club.

The car ride was short and quiet. Diggle didn't look back, but he knew Oliver needed the alone time. Diggle had watched plenty of his friends die while he was serving his tours, and he knew the affect it had on people. Especially soldiers.

When the car stopped, Oliver didn't even wait for Diggle to get the door for him. He walked swiftly into his club, and down the secret entrance to his base. Felicity was already in the basement, doing God-knows-what on the computer. Oliver was smart, but he wasn't MIT smart. He noticed she was dressed in black, even though she didn't attend the funeral.

"Any updates?" Oliver asked, bending over Felicity's shoulders to see the computer screens. Felicity jumped at Oliver's sudden appearance behind her.

"You really need a bell," she said, her breathing slightly quicker from the surprise. Oliver didn't even bother to smirk at her. After a long day of being Oliver Queen, he needed to go out for a while as the Hood. Felicity turned back to the computer and began explaining her newest results. "Birth name is Lawrence Crock, other known aliases are Crusher Crock, Sportsmaster, Larry Johnson, though the last is really just for getting through security points. His wife's in jail, but she was supposedly his partner. There is speculation he's also training some other people, though who it is I can't find."

Felicity spun around in her chair, feeling somewhat childish, to look at Oliver and gauge his reaction. "Oh!" she said. "And he likes to fight people with various sports related items–"

"Think he's overcompensating for something?" Diggle asked, chuckling. He quickly shut up after Oliver gave him a pointed glare.

"These trainees," Oliver continued. "Should they be any trouble?"

"Probably not," Felicity commented, turning back to her computer. "There isn't too much about them, though. I'd keep an eye out." She turned back around to see Oliver grabbing his Hood ensemble from the container it was stored in.

"Oliver, it's four in the afternoon. Way too early for you to go out," Diggle said, holding a hand to stop Oliver.

"Besides! Your best friend was just buried after he died in that earthquake–" Felicity stopped at the look Oliver gave her. It could only be described as a combination between hopelessness and anger. "I'll shut up now."

"What you need to do," Diggle said, taking the attention away from Felicity. "Is go home. Get some rest. Grieve. You can go off and fight Crock tonight until your heart's content. But now is not the time."

Oliver sighed, looking back at his friend. "You're right," he admitted, setting down the clothes.

"Did he just admit you were right?" Felicity asked Diggle, earning herself al pointed glare from Oliver. Diggle in turned smirked at Felicity at their friend's expense.

"You two need to grow up," Oliver said, turning his back to them setting his bow back in its display case.

"And you," Diggle began, wrapping an arm around Oliver's shoulder. "Need to loosen up."

Was that any good? Review are appreciated! I'm trying to give my own version of what happened right after the quake and such. The funeral wasn't too action-packed, but I felt it needed some closure there.

Also, I am looking for a beta-reader if anyone would be interested in doing such a thing. I know my grammar probably isn't spotless (since I write generally how I talk) and some things could definitely be better-worded, soo... yeah, if you're up for it let me know.

Have a lovely day dearies!