He ended up back at the Foundry. The place she had built for them. The place that in a matter of days would no longer be theirs to use, thanks to his stupidity with Isabel Rochev. Felicity had told them they would need to start moving equipment soon, because Felicity was always aware of the logistics of their operation. She made sure he had what he needed.
Why could he see, only now, that she was what he had needed. How had he missed it?
Her chair sat empty. The computers were still on, the screen savers active. He knew the one on the left would still show the map of the Glades that she had pulled up the night before, as the prepared to go after the mirakuru army.
He had never imagined it would be the last time he would see her at those computers. He heard a guttural sound, and realized that he was making it.
He stumbled to the bathroom to wash the red that stained his hands away. Except when he looked in the mirror, he realized there was blood everywhere—on his face and his hair, on his hands, in his suit. Her blood. Too much of her blood had spilled out of the wounds that Slade had created, until there was nothing left for her heart to move anymore. And so she had died. Because of him.
He had promised to protect her, he had told her that he relyed on her and that he didn't know how to do this without her. But when Slade had to him one more had to die . . . he hadn't seen it. He hadn't even thought of her. Why? Why, when now it was so glaringly obvious? He turned on the shower—another of Felicity's additions while he was "away"—and stepped in, fully clothed. He hung his head down and watched the blood circle endlessly down the drain. Red circling in the water, spiraling down the dark hole of the drain.
He wasn't sure how lon he stood there, or how long it took for the water to run clean. Eventually he pulled off the soaking leather, hanging it to dry on the hooks. She probably would have come early in the morning, taking it down and cleaning it so that it was waiting, ready in its case in case he needed it the following night. She would have done that, if she were still alive. Because those were the sort of things she did that he had noticed, but never really appreciated. He didn't care if the suit ever came off the hook.
He dried off and changed into the clothes he kept in the small locker she had installed for each of them when he was "away." He was glad that this place would be a part of their past soon, because everywhere he looked, he saw things that reminded him of her. She had remade this place to somewhere they all wanted to be. A place they could feel safe, and consider home.
The chair sat empty next to the computers, reminding him of his latest failure.
The door opened, and he looked up to see what was left of his team come down the stairs. Sara, dressed in street clothes. Roy, still in his red hoodie and mask. Dig, eyes still looking vacant and dead. Laurel was in the lead, and the only one with dry eyes. She sported a bruise on her face from her kidnapping—Slade seemed to know him better than he knew himself. Laurel ran the last few steps and threw herself into his arms. He closed his eyes, unable to make himself hug her back. He felt a sudden whole in his chest as he thought of the time he had come down the stairs in December, after fighting Cyrus Gold that last time.
It was the last time she had asked him to promise her something, before tonight. He hadn't been certain he could keep that promise, so he hadn't made it. He hadn't wanted to lie to her. She had been so relieved when he had returned that she had flown into his arms when he had come down the stairs. That was the night she had put the mask on him the first time. She had called him a hero. And he had failed her. Slade was cured and most likely in prison now, and he supposed they had saved the city, but she was gone. Why had it not occurred to him that Slade would target the one person who had always, always believed in him.
He realized Laurel was still hugging him, and he stepped back, away from her. "I'm so glad you're okay, Ollie," she said.
He laughed, a dry, painful, morose sound. Because he was not okay. Not even close. And if Laurel had any clue about this team, she would know that.
Laurel looked at him with confusion in her eyes, and started to speak, but Sara saved him from it.
"Dad's with her," she said, and her voice broke. "They're taking her to the morgue, and he's expecting you." She stepped up and took his hands in hers. "You don't have to go, but . . ."
He nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat, unable to speak. He looked to Roy, who had pulled the mask down around his neck. It was crazy that the kid had come out of the mirakuru with the cure remembering nothing of the time he had been under the mirakuru's control, but able to shoot better than he had at any point in his training.
"Does this team have a name, like Team Arrow or something?" He remembered the kids voice as he had introduced him to his team.
"These are the only two that matter." He'd said it, he'd remembered then how important they were. Why hadn't he thought of Dig and Felicity when Slade had said one more had to die?
"Thea's safe," the kid said, pulling him out of his agony for a second with the name of his sister. "She knows it was me, but I don't think she suspects . . ." Roy shook his head.
Oliver gave a tight nod and looked to Dig. The older man's jaw worked, and he realized whatever words he hoped Dig would have for him, there would be none. There was nothing here for him right now. A room full of people, and there was nothing to hold him. He turned for the stairs.
"Where are you going to go?" It was Laurel again. He exhaled and closed his eyes. "The mansion is gone, burned to the ground. . ." she said. Oh yes, he had forgotten that bit of news. "You can come stay with me. You can both come stay with me." Because Laurel thought he and Sara were still together. Laurel thought his employee had died, nothing more. She didn't understand who Felicity was. She hadn't known her. He couldn't think of a single thing to say.
Diggle held a key out to him. Of course John would have a key to her place. He had been there for her when Oliver couldn't be. When he had ran to Lian Yu, when he was worried about Slade coming after Sara . . . Dig had always kept watch over her. He remembered the last time Diggle had walked away from their mission, when he had chosen to help Laurel over helping with Deadshot.
"It will always be Laurel. Everyone else be damned." He looked at the man who he trusted with his life, and he saw it then. He saw the blame and the anger hidden under the pain.
Diggle held him responsible.
As he should. Because he and John were all Felicity had, and neither of them had been there for her. They had both been distracted by other women while Slade went after her. It was ridiculous how easily they had been played.
He took the key, and he ran.
