"They got away." Oliver strode into the lair and slammed his bow down on the table.

Dig looked up from the computer where he was running the comms. "Thea got one. She's dropping him off at the precinct as we speak."

Oliver nodded tersely. Well that was good at least. "Maybe he'll rat on the others."

He and Thea had been patrolling the docks after getting a tip off from Lance that the Triad was operating a human trafficking ring under the guise of a shrimp importing business. The Triad had failed to show up— instead they'd stumbled right into the middle of a drug deal going down behind a stack of shipping containers at the end of the east pier. The perps had scattered and there had been too many to chase them all down.

"We can hope." Dig pulled off his earpiece and lounged back in his chair. "Do you remember that fire in the Triangle last weekend?"

Oliver glanced up from unzipping the top of his suit. "The one at the chemical warehouse?"

Dig nodded. "I dug into it a bit."

Oliver's brow furrowed. "Why? The fire marshal ruled it accidental."

"They did. But I had a weird feeling about it so I talked to Mike Daley's daughter—the foreman who was killed in the explosion," he explained when Oliver gave him a blank look. "She said the only reason her father was at the factory that night was because he got a call from the security company about a break-in."

Oliver's head was pounding. His limbs felt like lead. He should have been able to catch at least one of the dealers but he had been off his game, sluggish. For weeks he'd been running on four or five hours of sleep. Apparently it was beginning to catch up with him. He shook his head, fighting back the urge to yawn. "So?"

"So I had Lance put in a call to the security company," Dig said. "According to them, there was no break-in. The alarm never went off."

It took a moment but eventually the pieces started to click together. "You think the call was a fake? Someone lured the foreman to the warehouse and then set it on fire?"

Dig shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm making mountains out of mole hills. But something just doesn't feel right, man. And there's been a bunch of other cases recently where I've had the same feeling—like things just don't quite add up."

Oliver frowned as he grabbed a t-shirt from the bag of street clothes he kept in the lair. "Like what?"

"That woman whose balcony gave out in Adams Heights?" Dig said. "The apartment manager said they'd just finished a full building inspection. There was nothing wrong with the balcony the day before she fell. And then there were those brothers shot behind the club in Lamb Valley. Their mother said they got a call from a friend asking for a ride home but when they showed up—"

"No friend," Oliver guessed.

Dig nodded again. "And they both end up dead in an alleyway. No suspects. Seems like an awful lot of coincidences to me."

Oliver ran a hand down his face. "Not every death is murder."

"No," Dig allowed. "But in this city enough of them are to make me suspicious. I just think it's worth looking into. Run a cross-check on the victims or something. See if they had anything in common."

"Fine," Oliver said, too tired to think about it any further. "Do it."

Dig paused then said, "Well, I would, Oliver, but I'm not a tech guy. This is kind of beyond me. Beyond any of us, I'm guessing."

Oliver tensed halfway through shrugging on his leather jacket. "What are you saying, John?"

"I think you know what I'm saying. We could really use Felicity's help on this one."

How was it possible that the mere mention of her name could steal the breath from his body faster than a punch to the gut? Oliver didn't pause to think. "No."

"I know you're not exactly on good terms—"

Oliver held up a hand, cutting him off. "It's not about that, Dig. She chose to leave. She wanted away from...all this."

From me.

"Man, are you really gonna pretend like we don't know where Lance gets his intell from? Felicity might have left the city but she still cares about what happens here. She'd want to help."

"We have no right to drag her back here," Oliver said stiffly.

Diggle raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. "Are you saying that for her sake? Or for yours?"

They stared each other down for a moment. Then Oliver turned away. He was too tired for this. He hefted his bag onto his shoulder and headed for the garage. "I'm done talking about it. Tell Thea she can head out as soon as she's dropped off that perp."

"Oliver—" Dig called after him.

Oliver didn't look back.

Going sixty on his Ducati it only took him five minutes to get home from the lair.

Home.

That was a generous term for his living situation.

After everything that had happened Oliver hadn't wanted to stay in the loft alone. Without Felicity's presence filling it up the open floor plan had felt cavernous and cold. Oliver had considered asking Thea if she wanted to move back in with him but in the end he'd decided against it. His sister was young. She had her own life and he had no right to latch onto her just because he'd grown unaccustomed to living alone.

He ended up renting a small one bedroom in a complex in Orchid Bay only a few blocks from City Hall. The building was quiet. Clean. And pet friendly, Thea had pointed out when they'd done a walk through before he signed the lease.

"You could get a dog."

He gave her a look. "I don't have time for a dog."

"A cat then."

"Thea."

"A goldfish. Come on, Ollie. Live a little."

A week after Oliver moved in he came home to find three colorful tropical fish swimming in a large tank on his kitchen table. According to the note Thea left beside the tank, their names were Mo, Larry, and Curly—a callback to the hours the two of them had spent watching The Three Stooges as kids.

They need to be fed twice a day. I left the food on the counter. The tank is self-cleaning. Try not to have too much fun, ok?

Now when Oliver let himself into the apartment he was met by the soft blue glow of the tank cutting through the darkness. He tipped some food into the water and headed for the bathroom. A shower turned out to be exactly what he needed. The pounding water and steam coaxed some of the tension from his shoulders and eased the pounding in his temple.

Oliver had just dried off and pulled on a pair of sweatpants when the doorbell rang. He was considering ignoring it when a familiar voice called, "Ollie, open up. I know you're in there."

Oliver pulled open the door. "Thea?"

His sister brushed past him, holding up a large white take-out bag. "Sichuan Gourmet . They put in an extra order of egg rolls and there is absolutely no way I can eat all this by myself."

Oliver smiled as he shut the door behind her. "I guess I can take for one for the team."

"My hero." She glanced at him over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. "Do you still have the duck sauce from last time? They didn't put any in."

"Blasphemy."

"I know!"

They ate siting on the living room floor, pulling dumplings and egg rolls straight from the containers.

"I saw the article about you and Monica," Thea said lightly, stealing a glance at Oliver over the top of the carton of moo shu.

Oliver snorted. He wouldn't call anything published by The Daily Star an article. Toilet paper, maybe. Even that was generous.

"So...what's up with you two?"

"Nothing," Oliver said firmly, hoping to shut down the conversation before it started. "She works for me. That's it."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be. She likes you, you know."

"Thea."

"I'm just saying, you guys seem like you could really get along. Like outside of a professional sense, I mean. It doesn't have to be anything serious. Just a drink every now and then—"

"I said no," Oliver growled.

They sat in silence for a minute, the relaxed atmosphere suddenly pulled taut. An ambulance whined by on the street below.

Thea poked dejectedly at her moo shu. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just think you deserve another shot at being happy. Is that so bad?"

"I am happy," Oliver said dully. His tone was so incongruous with the statement that he almost laughed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I know you're just trying to help." He searched around for new topic of conversation. "Was Lance grateful for his present? I assumed you wrapped the guy up with a bow for him."

"Oh yeah," Thea said airily. "I'll be expecting a thank you card any day now."

When Oliver walked Thea to the door half an hour later she gave his arm a tight squeeze. "I've got your back, bro. You know that right?"

"I do. Thank you."

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Mayor."

"Good night, Speedy."

Oliver put the leftovers in his otherwise empty fridge and dropped their cups into the sink to deal with in the morning. As he wandered into the bedroom Thea's words replayed in his head.

You deserve another shot at being happy.

Oliver appreciated the sentiment but in the end it didn't matter if he was deserving or not. He'd had everything he ever wanted and somehow he'd let it slip away.

Oliver found himself standing in front of his closet, staring down at the three cardboard boxes shoved against the wall behind the neat row of suits. One box was full of cookbooks—somehow the endeavor had lost its appeal without someone other than himself to cook for. The second held all the odds and ends that had been salvaged from the ashes after the Queen Mansion burnt to the ground.

And the third—

Oliver pulled it out and stared down it. The box had been opened and resealed so many times that the layer of packing tape keeping it shut was half an inch thick.

Don't do it, the voice in the back of his head warned. You'll regret it. You know you will.

Oliver kept a Swiss army knife in the top drawer of his bedside table. The small blade made quick work of the tape and he pushed back the flaps.

Her favorite MIT sweatshirt.

A few mismatched earrings.

A chipped Return of the Jedi coffee mug.

The ninth season of Doctor Who on Blu-Ray.

Oliver fished out the small velvet box that held his mother's ring. He kept meaning to do something with it. Give it to Thea, or something. He definitely had no use for it. Not anymore. But every time he tried something stopped him. It had only been Felicity's for five months but somehow the thought of anyone' else wearing it, even his sister, seemed wrong.

That's stupid. It's just a piece of jewelry.

Oliver set the ring aside, recommitting himself to giving it to Thea the next time he saw her, and turned back to the box.

There was only one thing left.

Oliver picked up the sonogram and held it up to the light. The image was small, just 4 inches by 4 inches. And there wasn't much to it really. Just a small black kidney bean swimming in a sea of grey and white static. Felicity had only been three weeks along when it was taken. Ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest, Oliver flipped it over. The note on the back was short. It had only taken him two reads to memorize the entire thing.

Oliver— so that happened.

Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just wanted to be sure.

You're happy right? I bet you are, you big sap.

We'll talk when I get home from work.

I love you.

-F

Oliver thumbed the light grooves where Felicity's pen had pressed into the photo paper. He could picture her bent over the kitchen counter in the loft writing the words. She'd have been chewing her lip, a little crease between her eyebrows. The morning light catching in her hair.

The surge of longing was sharp and sudden. Oliver dropped the sonogram as if it had burned him and shoved the box back into the recesses of the closet. Then he scooted back a foot, his head falling back against the edge of the bed.

In the back of his head the small voice sighed.

I told you you'd regret it.