The Only Thing ch 3
It was Felicity's turn to pay her respects. She hated this part of funerals and she would have preferred not to approach the gorgeous container that held the remains of the one man she admired and loved the most in the world.
Inhaling deeply to keep her composure, she touched the wood and it almost felt warm to the touch like it was alive. The casket was closed but she could imagine him inside, the dark suit, long thin black tie, the stubble of his beard and short sandy hair. She could envision his hands clasped together at his waist and a peaceful expression on his face. Leaning on the wood, she pressed her forehead to the casket and felt her knees grow weak. No. I know he's here and I will not let him see me this way, she confessed to herself, willing her eyes not to get wet and break down in front of everyone.
The room knew now who was the Vigilante. She all knew Felicity had spent the last few moments of Oliver Queen's life with him and the mourners all fell eerily silent as if they were according her their respect as well. It was as if they all pulled back and gave her her own space with Oliver for one last goodbye. Felicity appreciated their sentiment and rubbed the wood affectionately. Thousands of thoughts poured through her mind but none settled like leaves caught in a wild fall wind. Fight on, Oliver, she prayed to herself and stood up from the casket and moved forward, head held high, just like he'd want her to.
John Diggle, who occupied the farthest back seat, was for once in his life truly afraid. Felicity glowed to him like a red-hot poker even if no one else saw it. He knew what happened and the burden was his to bear for the rest of his life. This young man did what he couldn't; avenge the death of his brother. So now Diggle was nothing but a shadow, a coward to no one but himself. The burden almost crushed him and he knew guilt had an avenging angel and it was Felicity Smoak.
He didn't have the nerve to approach the casket or even come remotely toward the family. A few days after Oliver's death, Detective Lance had questioned him about why he had not known about Oliver's vigilantism being that he was Oliver's bodyguard. John's blood ran cold and he created some elaborate story that apparently satisfied Detective Lance, even if it made him feel like he was selling his soul to the devil. Going home, he drank heavily that night, just like the night his brother had been killed, hoping alcohol would chase away the demons.
The last of the mourners paid their respects and the casket was carried to the hearse for the private internment. Many filed out to their own waiting cars or lingered briefly. John saw Felicity standing near the door watching the casket being bourn by six of his friends, one of them Tommy Merlyn. Not knowing what possessed him, he approached her, " Felicity."
She spun on her heel like a snake ready to strike, " Get away from me you traitor."
John turned his head as if she had slapped him, " Can we talk?"
" I have nothing to say to you." Felicity growled at him, looking back out the door at the procession of black limousines leaving.
" I know what I did was so wrong. I… I am asking for forgiveness because I can't ask him." Diggle said feeling two inches tall.
Slowly, she turned to look at him with her razor blue eyes cutting his soul to shreds, " John Diggle, I am not the person who can grant that. You have to wait to ask him yourself. Now get away from me and never speak to me again."
She stepped out into the bright sunlight setting her bouncing curls alive framed by her dark green dress while John stood alone and cold, forever changed by one choice.
Fin