Chapter One "Faceless"

Felicity draws circles on the corner of a file folder as she stares blankly at a screen full of information she should have been through a week ago. Her work performance (or lack thereof) has not gone unnoticed. Ray has asked her several times what's going on. She's given up bothering with excuses, choosing rather to ignore the question and talk about something work related. She knows he's aware that she's pushing him away, but she doesn't care. He's stopped trying to get her interested in his plans to help the city or much of anything really.

Felicity can't help him anyway. She's given up on saving the world. She made that choice six months ago when Laurel showed up at the Arrow Cave and wanted their help.

"I'm going to keep fighting," Laurel says. "I know Oliver is gone, but he wouldn't want us to give up."

"What exactly are you suggesting?" Diggle asks. "You wanna fight all the bad guys yourself?"

"No, I want you to help me. I don't have the kind of training the Oliver or my sister had, but I'm getting there. I could use a team, though."

"How can you do this?" Felicity asks. She doesn't look at Laurel, and rather stares at the wall from her chair. "How can you just jump back in? I mean, you loved him, didn't you?"

Felicity finally looks at Laurel as if daring her to deny it, and almost wishing she would.

However, Laurel's expression only hardens. "Guess I've just gotten used to everyone I love dying. The way Oliver was going, it was only a matter of time."

"How can you say that?" Felicity's voice gets louder as she stands. "How can you stand there and pretend to be some kind of hero when you've got no hope left in you?"

"I'm facing reality here. Hope isn't going to save innocent people. I am. And any of you who decide to help me."

"I'm sorry Laurel," Diggle says in his calm, voice of reason tone. "I'm done."

"I'm not," Roy says. "This is all I got, so I'm in."

Felicity shakes her head. "I can't be here anymore. I can't... look at this place and do the things I did when... when he's gone."

Felicity pushes past Laurel and walks away. Her footsteps echo on the stairs, and Diggle soon follows her. They reach the alley behind the club before Felicity turns to face him.

"Don't try to change my mind."

Diggle looks surprised that she would suggest it. "I'm not," he says. "I understand completely. Why do you think I'm getting out?"

"Well... because of your family. Because..."

"Because in the beginning, it was just Oliver and me. With him gone..." Diggle sighs as if searching for the right words. "It's not what I signed on for. I joined Oliver because he needed me. Nothing against Laurel, but she's not him. She doesn't want the kind of help I have to offer anyway."

"What, the unsolicited advice? No, I don't think she'd appreciate that like—like we did."

Felicity still can't say his name. She wonders if she ever will be able to.

"Hello?"

A hand waving in Felicity's face jolts her out of the memory. She jumps back, ready to throw her pen at the assailant.

"Hey!" Ray steps back and puts his hands up defensively. "I know you've been kind of out of it, but this is ridiculous."

"Sorry," Felicity says, trying to regain composure. "I was..."

"Daydreaming? Because that's cool. It can enhance creativity, but that's not what this is about, is it?"

Felicity bites her lip and sets the pen down, noticing the layers of scribbles and the pile of unfinished work.

"It's about Oliver Queen, isn't it?"

Felicity's head jerks back up to look at Ray. "What?"

"I heard he was missing. I know you two were friends—"

"No, um, I mean, yes we were—are. I..."

"Look, if you need more time off—"

"I've had enough time." Felicity stands. "The only thing worse than not doing anything is being constantly aware of the fact that I'm not doing anything. And I'm sorry about... this. I'll try to do better."

"That's not why I'm here." The compassion in Ray's voice is suddenly apparent and heart-wrenching.

"Oh." Felicity busies herself straightening her desk.

"Hey." Ray reaches down and puts his hand over Felicity's. "I know you don't want to talk to me about it, but... talk to someone, okay? I'm always here if you need me."

Felicity looks up again, trying not to blink because then the tears will fall. "Thanks," she says. "I just... I really need to get some work done."

Ray nods and lets go of her hand. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

Felicity nods, and Ray turns to leave. She's grateful that he chose that moment to make his exit because she's not sure she could have held out any longer. He's right. On so many levels. She can't keep this up forever, and she does need to talk to someone, but the one person she wants to talk to more than anything is gone, and he's not coming back.

~oOo~

There are a lot of things Oliver notices being different after eight years. Little things that feel like big things. His voice is deeper. He does this funny thing with the thumb and first three fingers on his right hand. Like a nervous tick he never knew he had.

There are bigger things too, of course. The scars that cover his body tell of a very violent eight years, and as much as he tries, Oliver can't seem to get it out of Malcolm what happened. Like what he was doing on that mountain and why someone stabbed him. The wound has healed now, but it was a long road. The past six months had been spent regaining his strength. For some reason, Malcolm thought Oliver would need to be in excellent physical shape before their return. Oliver could have walked off that mountain months ago, but he knows Malcolm must have had a reason.

The drive back into Starling City is something else that's changed. The city seems older and darker. When the car doesn't take the familiar road to the Queen mansion, Oliver's long list of questions gets a new addition.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

Malcolm sits across from him, gazing out the window indifferently. "To see your sister," he says.

"Why isn't she at home?"

"Oliver, Thea is 21 years old. She lives on her own now."

"What about my mom?"

"I'll let Thea explain."

"You know, you keep saying that. Why won't you tell me what's going on?"

Malcolm turns and regards Oliver with that same pitying look he always gets. "There's too much to explain all at once," he says. "I don't want to overwhelm you."

"We had six months."

"Some things are better coming from the source. A lot has changed, and I want you to be as prepared as possible for the shock."

"Malcolm, what happened to my mother?"

It's not that hard to figure out, really. Malcolm hasn't talked about Moira Queen at all, always saying he would get Oliver back to his sister or that Thea was waiting for him. In fact, Thea is the only person Malcolm has mentioned directly which leads Oliver to fear that more people are out of the picture than just his mother.

"Thea can explain better than I can," Malcolm says as he turns to face the window again.

Oliver knows the conversation is over then. Malcolm has this way of shutting down when he doesn't want to talk about something. He's always been that way, now that Oliver thinks about it. At least, he has since Oliver was eight years old.

Thea's apartment is near the center of the city in a fancy high rise. Oliver plays back the conversation with Malcolm in his mind, focusing on the part about Thea being an adult. She was only twelve the last time he saw her. A little girl. He can't imagine how much she must have changed. Malcolm had called to let her know they were coming, but Oliver had to wonder how much of a shock his appearance would be to her. He hasn't seen a mirror in six months, but he gets the feeling he probably looks older at least. Malcolm had made it sound like he hadn't been gone all those eight years, so maybe it won't be as big a surprise for her to see him.

As the two of them ride the elevator up to the top, Oliver can't help thinking about all the training Malcolm put him through to get back here. It hadn't made any sense at the time, and it still doesn't. Malcolm would only say that Oliver had to be ready. But ready for what? Why did he need to know how to swing a sword? And why had it come so naturally to him?

The elevator tone sounds and the doors open, chasing away Oliver's thoughts for the moment. He follows Malcolm down the hallway to the only apartment on the entire floor. Malcolm knocks twice and waits. It only takes a few seconds for Thea to answer the door, as if she had been waiting nearby in anticipation.

Oliver barely recognizes her. She immediately hugs him, which emphasizes everything about her that's changed. She's too tall. Her short hair brushes against his face. Her arms seem too strong as they hold him tightly. When she says his name, he has to remind himself that her voice changed too because she doesn't sound like Thea.

When she finally lets him go, Oliver looks into her eyes, and that's where he sees it. His little sister is still in there beneath those familiar blue irises so like his own. They aren't the phantom eyes from his nightmares, but he takes that as a good sign.

"I'll leave you two to catch up," Malcolm says and turns to head back to the elevator without waiting for a reply.

Thea pulls Oliver inside. At first, he's taken back by the sheer size of the place. Of course he remembers their house being much bigger, but there were more people there too.

"You live here alone?" he asks.

"No, I live here with you," Thea replies with a slight frown creasing her brow. "Malcolm said you didn't remember much."

Oliver nods slowly as he continues to gaze around the vast room. "He said I came back for a while. That I wasn't stranded the whole time."

"Yeah, you came back three years ago. You were stuck on an island before that. You really don't remember anything?"

Oliver turns to face Thea again, having to remind himself this is his sister. "Before Malcolm found me, the last thing I remember is the storm. I don't know where I was or what I did or... or what happened here."

Now that he's here, Oliver doesn't want to ask. He doesn't want to know what happened to his family that made Malcolm refused to talk about his mother. He wants to keep thinking that she'll show up any minute and tell him everything's going to be okay like she always did.

"Maybe we should sit down," Thea says, gesturing toward the living room.

Oliver doesn't want to sit down. He doesn't want to talk. He wants to run away. Ever since he got back into the city, he's had a strange compulsion to get away from... something. Or maybe it's to get to something?

Thea moves over to the couch, and Oliver follows her, pushing away the inclination to escape. He has to face this, and it's best to get it over with. He sits down next to his sister, and she pulls her feet up under her. As much as he wants to relax, Oliver can't and remains stiff, sitting on the edge of the cushion and flexing his right hand instinctively.

"When you came back, things were different," Thea says. "You were different. Mom was remarried and I was a mess. Nobody quite knew how to handle it." Thea pauses as if trying to decide how much to say. "Things got worse later. I don't really know how to explain it all, but..."

"Mom's gone, isn't she?" Oliver says. He doesn't look at Thea. He can't stand the thought of all that pity and sadness in her eyes.

"Yeah." She says it like a sigh. "A little over a year ago. She was protecting us, Ollie. We had a lot of issues with her, but in the end..."

"Who else?" It may have been the fact that Malcolm hardly talked about anyone Oliver used to know, but he's sure that his mother isn't the only person he's lost.

"Tommy," Thea says.

Now it all makes sense. Of course Malcolm wouldn't want to talk about it. Oliver barely remembers when Mrs. Merlyn died, but he knows it changed Malcolm. He had always been distant after that, traveling and working all the time.

Thea puts her hand on Oliver's arm, and he almost jerks away before reminding himself this is his sister. He doesn't know why he feels so uneasy with her. She's the last family he has, but something seems off. He knows there's plenty she's not telling him, but he hadn't expected everything at once.

"Maybe..." Thea starts. "Maybe you should get some sleep, and we can talk more tomorrow."

Oliver nods because he has no reason to argue. He's not really tired, but he follows Thea's directions up the stairs and to the left to find his room. The two outer walls are made of glass, and the glare of the city lights is a strange distraction after being away from civilization so long.

Oliver finds pajamas in the top drawer of the dresser, just where he always kept them. As he pulls them out, he hears something heavy slide across the bottom of the drawer. Moving more clothes aside, he sees a military style knife lying there. Why does he keep a weapon in his bedroom?

Oliver sighs and runs his free hand over his face before closing the drawer. It's just another in the long line of questions he has no answers to.

~oOo~

Felicity turns off the TV when she realizes she's been staring off into space for two hours. Her Chinese takeout sits on the couch beside her half eaten and cold. It's been coming on for a while, but it hits her all of the sudden that she's wasting her life here. She used to think she was doing something good, something worthwhile, but anymore she goes to work and comes home and wonders if anyone would notice if she disappeared. She still sees Diggle from time to time, and she knows Ray would care, but it's hard to see that when she's sitting alone in the dark having lost the one thing that made her feel so alive.

And she thinks it should get better, that she shouldn't always be trapped in despair, but nothing's changed. The pain she felt the first time she heard the words "Oliver Queen is dead" is just as strong now as it was then. Only now she's had more time to think about it, more time to analyze and understand why she feels it. It's not so much that she didn't realize she loved Oliver, but she hadn't let herself think it in so many words until after he was gone. She held a part of herself back because she was afraid of the inevitable rejection. She still loves him, but there's nowhere for that love to go, no worthwhile cause to pour it into.

She's stronger that this. She knows she is. Her whole life cannot be completely derailed by one man. But that's exactly what's happened. Oliver is gone, and somehow without really knowing the exact moment or how it happened, Felicity died with him.

Felicity shakes herself and stands up. She should go to bed, but she knows she won't be able to sleep. Leaving the house probably isn't a much better idea, but she pulls on her shoes and grabs her purse anyway.

She doesn't know where she's going; she just gets in her car and drives for a while. At night, the city slows a little, but there are still a few people out. Felicity finds herself straying away from the more populous areas and driving toward the edge of town. It's a familiar drive, but one she hasn't made in over a year. The driveway is still six miles long.

Felicity gets out of her car and stands still for a second, remembering the times she was here before. The former Queen mansion is still vacant. There's dust in the windows, and the shrubbery is overgrown. Off to the left side of the house, Felicity sees Robert Queen's gravestone, gleaming faintly in the moonlight. She walks across the untended lawn toward it, and when she stops, she sees the place where Oliver's stone has left the ground uneven. Even though it's gone now, Felicity feels like this is the closest thing to a grave he will ever have. There had been no body—just a bloody sword and the never-ending silence.

Kneeling in the grass, Felicity gazes at the empty space. There should be a memorial, something to let the world know he mattered. Instead it's just Felicity here feeling like she's the only one who really knew him. It's not true, but she's not thinking clearly now and hasn't been for a long time.

"Where are you?" she hears herself say in a small, frightened voice. "Why won't you come back to me?"

The impassive earth makes no reply. Robert's headstone seems to glare at Felicity as if questioning her presence here. Everything is silent; there is no wind in the trees, no traffic on the highway.

Felicity allows a strangled sob to escape her throat. This is all there is now. As much as she tries to hear his voice in her mind, to smell his scent hovering in the air, there is nothing.

~oOo~

Oliver stands in front of the mirror, unable to tear his eyes away from the reflection. He's seen the mysterious scars plenty of times, but taking everything in at once leaves him stunned. He runs his hands through his hair, thinking he'd really like it to be shorter even though it's no longer than it was when he left. Eight years ago.

Seeing his own face for the first time, Oliver finally believes how long it's been. There are lines in his forehead that didn't used to be there. His mouth seems to more naturally want to frown that smile. And his eyes seem dark somehow.

Part of Oliver still wants to believe this is all a dream. That he will wake up any moment, and life will be back to normal. He can't possibly be living this nightmare.

He hears Thea's footsteps on the stairs, but he doesn't move from his place. He still can't look away from the mangled mess he has become.

"Ollie?" Thea's voice call out.

"In here," Oliver replies.

Thea comes to stand in the open doorway of the bathroom, holding a stack of clean towels. "You okay?" she asks.

Oliver finally turns to look at her. "What happened to me?" He doesn't recognize his own voice, so small and lost.

Thea sets the towels on the counter and puts her hands on Oliver's arms. "I don't know," she says. "You didn't like to talk about the island. I think... I think there were bad people there who hurt you, but I don't know why. I'm not sure you even knew."

"Some of them aren't that old." Oliver tilts his head down as if to indicate the fresher scars.

"You did wreck your bike a couple of times after you came home."

"I don't think so."

"What?"

Oliver points to a scar on his shoulder. "This one looks like a bullet wound."

Thea's eyes widen. "You think you got shot? Why wouldn't you have told me?"

"I don't know." Oliver shakes his head. "Whatever it is I don't remember—it's bad, Thea."

"Okay, well—we'll figure this out, Ollie. All right? You'll be okay. I promise."

Oliver nods slowly, and Thea pulls him into a hug. He holds on for as long as he can. She's the only thing that makes even a little sense right now.

Eventually, she lets go and leaves him there. Oliver tries to distract himself with anything else. He showers, but the whole time, he's still thinking about what happened to him and how he's supposed to figure it all out.

Once he's finished in the bathroom, he doesn't get ready for bed. Instead he find a clean pair of jeans and long sleeved shirt. Then he puts on his shoe and find a brown leather jacket in the closet. He doesn't know exactly why he's going, but he knows he has to. Thea has gone to her room, but Oliver isn't sure whether she's sleeping or not. He tries to be as stealthy as possible as he descends the stairs and heads for the door. He feels bad for sneaking out, but he's not sure she would understand; and after months cooped up in that cabin with Malcolm, Oliver needs some space and freedom.

He finds his motorcycle in the basement garage of the building right where he would expect it. Malcolm had given him his keys when they came back to the city, though Oliver does think to wonder where Malcolm got them.

It doesn't take long to get out of the city. Oliver hadn't realized until now how claustrophobic he feels being surrounded by all those skyscrapers and traffic. He credits it to all that time in the mountains, but there's something else, nagging at the back of his mind that tells him there's another reason for his discomfort.

It's a long drive out to his old home, but Oliver barely notices the time. From the long driveway, everything looks the same, but as he gets closer, he can see that the place isn't lived in. Though, perhaps more unsettling is the little red car in the driveway. Oliver parks behind it and scans the area warily. He doesn't see anyone at first, until movement in the yard catches his attention.

There's a woman coming toward him, moving faster as she gets closer. Oliver can't tell much about her in the darkness, except that she's blonde and wears glasses. He slowly leaves the shadows of the carport to met her at the edge of the lawn.

She's breathing heavily as if she's been running, and she seems to be trying to say something.

"Oliver?" she finally chokes out.

He doesn't recognize her voice, though there's something oddly compelling about it. He doesn't have time to respond before she takes the last few steps between them and hugs him so tightly he almost stops breathing. Not knowing what else to do, he gently puts his arms around her and hopes she'll stop sometime soon so he can figure out what the hell is going on here.

When she finally does let go, she's sniffing and Oliver can barely make out tears on her face. She knows him, that much is obvious, and he hates to ruin this reunion of sorts, but he has to know.

"Who are you?" he asks.

The look on her face is worse than he expected. He was thinking confusion, but this is more like betrayal.

"What—what's going on with you, Oliver? It's me."

He shakes his head. "I don't remember. I don't remember anything."

She gasps and puts her hand over her mouth.

"Please," Oliver says, hating himself for causing this poor girl more distress. "I don't know who you are."

"I'm..." she trails off, unable to continue.

Perhaps this had been a terrible idea after all.

~oOo~

Tommy watches from the treeline and can't help smiling in spite of the situation. All his waiting had paid off. Watching Thea's place had seemed like a waste of time, but here he is. Oliver is back. Tommy had followed him from the city, hoping to make his presence known soon, but the snippets of conversation he's able to hear between Oliver and Felicity make him rethink that.

It's not clear how much Oliver has forgotten, but if he can't remember Felicity, he certainly won't remember the Arrow or the Undertaking or all the horrible things Tommy said to him before his apparent death.

This changes things. Tommy still plans on contacting Oliver soon, but not now. He will have to be much more careful in his approach.

In the meantime, Tommy intends to discover just why someone as hardheaded as Oliver Queen is having memory problems in the first place.

So, I plan on updating this whenever I have new chapters finished, which means it's going to be sporadic. Sometimes I write really fast, and sometimes I don't. I just don't want to be tied down to a particular schedule on this one since I haven't planned out all the details. Hopefully everyone is okay with this arrangement. As always, let me know what you think of the chapter.