'A moment you'll never remember'

Felicity didn't hear from the Blue Beetle for over three weeks after that. She saw him plenty – on the news taking down drug cartels and stopping robberies, plastered-on grin never once leaving his face. Every time, she tried to contact him on his comm or in The Bug.

Every time she was met with silence.

"Hey, its, uh – it's 'Friend'. I noticed there was some police chatter about you being involved in a collision, so check in. Let me know you're , well, alive."

"Beetle, there's a nanocloud heading for the city. I'm sending you the specs and uploading a virus that will shortcircuit them to your mainframe, but I'll need to talk you through initialising it. . . . Beetle? . . . You have to answer me! Beetle!"

"Not listening to me is stupid, you know. I'm still trying to help you."

"Beetle . . . please."

In those days, Felicity missed her old team so fiercely she ached; an indescribable hole inside of her. It was like nothing she had ever felt, the absence of them as she sat alone in her office like she was missing a part of herself – she longed to hear Sara laughing, or Roy arguing about something pointless. She would probably actually kill a man to hug Diggle right then.

And she'd die to hear Oliver's voice.

No matter what went down between them, no matter what disagreements they had – he never left her waiting. He answered when she called, told her he was safe and saved her, and had never let her down in that respect. It was her safety net; there were times when only his voice could pull her out of a panic, his tone steady and sure even when the world was falling apart.

She missed that. She missed him, even though it hurt to admit that – but it was less now than it had been a few months ago. The rawness of the moment was gone: the anger had subsided, the pain dulled, and Felicity was at the point where she could think of him and not feel like her heart had been torn out.

The point of grieving was to heal, and if that was true – she was ready to move on with her life.

When the Beetle was caught in the middle of an armed shoot-out, police one side and weapon's dealers the other, Felicity finally grew tired of the his adolescence. The weapon's being carried was electronic-based and could take out everything technological in a five-block radius. Ergo, the Beetle was way out of his league. He needed her, but was still being too stubborn to talk.

"Answer me!" Felicity shouted down the line. "Beetle, if I need to call in backup, I need to know now! It looks bad."

Nothing.

"Damn it, Beetle!" she cursed, hands balling up in frustration. Felicity was sitting in her office, blissfully empty, and hoping nobody happened to wander in anytime soon. Tense in her chair, she tapped a few keys, trying to pull up a better view of the shoot-out the Beetle was currently engaged in. Her body felt like static, on edge, connected to the machinery around her and feeling every tiny sound on the comm link like a pinprick on her skin.

"Answer me! This isn't a game and ignoring me isn't on anymore: I don't care if you hate me, you do not go radio silent during a mission. Especially when the stakes are this high. Not ever."

There was a crackle on the line, and bullets fired dully in the background before the Beetle's terse voice cut through. "-Didn't realise there was a rulebook to being a masked vigilante."

"This is serious, you're risking for life out there," Felicity barked. For a split-second she was shocked at the bite in her tone, sharp as steel. But then again, this had been her life for a long time, and she'd told scarier people than Beetle off. "I know you're mad – but you don't get to be. The moment you put on that mask, you become something else. You serve and protect. Whatever petty disagreements we have, the duty to the people comes first. So when I call, you answer."

She paused for just a moment. "Do you understand?"

"Loud and clear," The Beetle answered. The snark in his tone had lost all traces of the warmth it once held; it was a barbed now. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm trying not to get shot. I won't require assistance."

And just like that, the dead space was there again.

Ted, Michael and Felicity were watching Spanish soap operas.

It was a Saturday night and they had all cancelled plans to stay in, for once ignoring the thriving Chicago social scene and all the opportunities the night presented. Loud music and partying was far away from mind as they sat, the soft twanging of a mariachi band and occasional crunching of popcorn filling the air, neon lights replaced by soft lamplight.

It wasn't something they had planned, but it happened anyway.

"So, why is that woman screwing the gardener? Her husband's a fine piece of ass, and he owns his own business," Michael asked, perched with his knees curled up to his chest. He thoughtfully reached over and plucked a piece of popcorn from the bowl in Felicity's lap, sat between him and Ted on the small couch. "What's the competition? . . . Hey! He's like Ted, but y'know – tan."

The man in question rolled his eyes at the odd compliment. "Gee, thanks buddy."

"She doesn't love him," Felicity supplied, eyes glued to the screen. "I guess he's alright – he's stable, he's nice, he's rich – but the gardener, Hernando? He's her true love. Once you've met that person, nobody else even compares."

She frowned at the man with the black shirt unbuttoned to the waist prancing about the screen, the only indication he was even a gardener being the pair of shears in his belt loop. It really didn't make much sense - the clothes were impractical for gardening work. But for a second, that man changed as she blinked, becoming someone much more familiar and green.

Felicity shook herself as the man to her left spoke, pushing those thoughts away.

"Then why'd she marry him?" Michael pouted. Spanish-Ted was perfectly fine as a husband. The woman was just being picky.

"Because life isn't always that simple. Some things change you're sure about, like who you love . . . they don't work out. Things happen . . . people," Felicity paused. Tilting her head to the side as she thought, she shrugged, not really paying attention to her companions anymore. "People change, too. You don't always find the right person at the right time."

"And you end up screwing them in a shed," Ted responded, looking with disgust at the sweaty make-out session showing on the screen. He reached to take a piece of popcorn, throwing it in the air and catching it in his mouth.

Michael nodded, nonplussed, "Nice."

"What every girl dreams of," Felicity added in a dry tone, eating her own kernel. There was a snicker either side of her at that. "A macho man and agricultural equipment."

Michael snorted, "You should have said something darling, I could have shown you a good time."

"Please," she replied, laughing evenly. "You couldn't handle me."

The night went on with the roar of Ted's laughter as he choked on his beer, high-fiving his friend and jeering at Michael, who took it in humour with hands raised in surrender. It was growing on her, Felicity would admit. Her life here. And Michael, appearing out of nowhere and slotting into her life so easily, only make it that less lonely.

She could deal with it if her life was filled with laughter and the wails of lost love.

"What's wrong, sunshine smile?"

Felicity heard the words as she sat with her head in her hands, slumped on her desk at work in the late evening a few days after that. Her floor was empty aside from her: the rest of the Kord employee's leaving at a reasonable hour, when the sun was still visible on the skyline. It was long gone now, the city coming to life with a thousand little lights outside of her window.

The nickname was touching as it was grating. Felicity would smile in a vaguely irritated way whenever she heard it, but at the same time it made her heart feel lighter.

"It's nothing," she sat up, shaking her head tiredly. "Just been thinking about a lot of things lately."

Michael sat down on the chair on the opposite side of the desk, twisting it around in a way that made the wheels squeak before straddling it, resting his hands on the back of the chair. Head tilting to one side, he plucked her glasses from where they had been discarded on her desk and rested them on the bridge of his nose, pasting on an inquisitive expression.

"Now zell me, patient Smoak," he asked in a ridiculous German accent, making Felicity crack up despite herself and this time hide her head in shame. As she tried to force seriousness on her face, Michael glowed at the reaction he'd received, struggling to keep up his joke as he went on. "Vas it to do with your childhood? Or ze traumatic experienze of having to be friends with zat nerd Ted for years?"

Felicity forced her face to be still as she looked up, saying deadpan. "The only traumatic experience is this conversation."

"Hey!" he leaned back and pouted, breaking his accent. "I thought that was funny. Those are fun stereotypes!"

"But that accent was an abomination."

"Damn, insulting a guy's fake accents. That's cold, Smoak." Michael shook his head, placing a hand over his heart, but his act was betrayed by a tell-tale twitch of his lips. He wanted to laugh; they both knew it. Face clearing after they shared a glance, his smile deepening to a brief, bright grin, Michael's face straightened in a moment of earnestness. "Now we've broke the tension – what's actually up?"

Felicity didn't answer. The only sign of her discomfort was the way her eyebrows creased and her feet pushing her chair slightly, making it move back and forth a few inches. But at the time, her eyes kept flicking hopefully towards him, Felicity biting her bottom lip to keep from talking.

Michael shrugged, noticing and not wanting to push it. Well, not much. But he was used to getting people to tell him things, one way or another. And it was clear Felicity really did want to talk to someone.

"It's fine, it's fine. You don't have to tell me," he said, but then he put on his best 'casually innocent' voice and tempted. "But I don't know anyone here to tell whatever it is to, and I don't know you well enough to judge yet. I'm just saying."

Gracefully, he got to his feet and loped towards the door. His back turned, a victorious smirk lit up his face when Felicity spoke.

"It's just- argh," she broke off, waving her hands in the air as the noise of frustration left her. With a second groan, Felicity got up and walked around her desk towards him, tapping him on the shoulder to make him fall into step with her as they headed towards the elevator. "It's hard to explain. I vote we get wine to help the process."

"Do I really look like a wine guy?"

Arriving quickly, the elevator swung open to admit them, Felicity stomped confidently in. Rubbing the back of his neck, Michael followed. He had a feeling he was getting a rant now whether he wanted one or not.

The doors closed, sealing them into the small metal box with a cheery bing. Fortunately, the music ended there – a few months ago there had been an employee strike after Ted programmed the lift music to play nothing but 'ice ice baby' at full volume. Now Felicity and Michael stood in silence.

"Okay, it's like this," Felicity leaned against the metal hand bar on the elevator. Waving a hand, she began as vaguely as possible, "I had this . . . this disagreement with a friend. A big one. Like, end of an era big." She gestured with her eyebrows, nodding her head in his direction. "It would be like me or you cutting ties with Ted forever. It was someone that I – that I cared about a lot. He and I were . . ."

Michael's brow creased as he leaned towards her, "Were what?"

"Par-" Before she could finish the word, Felicity was cut off as the doors opened once more. Thought apparently forgotten, they walked out together, crossing the abandoned foyer of the building before stepping into the breeze outside.

As the Kord building was on the waterfront of Lake Michigan, there was a long walk between them and promised wine. But it was a good day to do it: it was sunny but kept cool by the breeze, boats lazily tracking their way across the glinting water, cheery sails in the distance.

As Felicity looked over at the closest boat, the sky turned grey as she blinked, the sunlight draining from the picture as the calm waters grew enraged. Breath catching, Felicity saw the boat go under, dragged into the depths by the overwhelming current. The mirage faded as every time she blinked, Felicity saw nothing but green.

"Hey," Michael put a hand on her arm, waving the other in front of her face with a grin. "I'm being charming over here. Pay attention to me."

Turning away from the nightmarish manifestation of her worried thoughts, Felicity forced herself to walk forward with her new friend, forcing her lips upwards and shakily laughing at his joke. But the smell of salt had replaced the bland scent of water, it's taste lingering at the back of her mouth.

Although she knew it was ridiculous, she couldn't shake the feeling that the past was catching up to her. With everything weighing on her mind – the Arrow and the Beetle, whether or not to become more involved with yet another vigilante – it wasn't surprising that she was starting to crack and see things. Personally, she was surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

". . . And you're still not paying attention to me? Damn, I'm losing my touch."

Michael was pouting in her face again, strolling backwards with his hands slung in his pockets when his words made Felicity jump again. They were halfway around the lake now, the glass tower of the Kord building half a mile behind her, threading the sky.

Shaking her head, she tried to look apologetic. "Sorry! I'm sorry, Michael. My heads just . . . well, it's somewhere. Probably."

"Far away?"

"Cities," Felicity replied derisively, pulling a hand through her ponytail. "There's a lot of things on my mind right now. For the past few months, actually – a lot of things in my life have changed. And it all started with that argument."

Michael looked over and made a face, "Then that seems a good place to start."

It was gone midnight when Felicity and Michael left the Waterfront Bar, named as literally as it could be. Essentially, it was a boat permanently fixed in the dock, selling anything alcoholic from a hatch in the hull.

A few metal chairs and tables were scattered close by, semi-permanently filled with Kord employee's, business suit clad and on break. It was the most popular place for Ted's staff to gather off the clock too – and he'd been known to join them on occasion. They even had a weekly karaoke night.

For hours, Felicity and Michael had sat on a table away from the others. It was uncomfortable, the metal biting into their backs and the wind chill becoming deadly once the sun had been completely erased from the sky, vanishing behind the skyscrapers marking the horizon and being replaced by shadows. In the shadows, the night was born; cold and like a mask in it's own sense, the night gave people an anonymity they lacked while the sun was up. They did things they would never ordinarily do, the night hiding their faces and letting their true emotions rise to the surface – and in Felicity's case, people in shadow spoke about things they didn't trust themselves to say any other time.

And Michael listened. Without complaint or judgement – albeit with occasional joking – he listened to what she had to say. It was simple, but that was enough. When she was done, he gave his verdict:

"I think . . . that's one messed up situation."

Whether or not it was because of the four bottles of wine they'd drank between them or the simplicity of her friend's statement, Felicity burst out laughing at that comment. She supposed it was fair enough – even with the information about the Arrow omitted, her and Oliver and Beetle's situation was 'messed up'.

"Well, you're not wrong," she laughed. It died a little on her lips, like a truth half-told, desperate to reach the light. "I'm just scared. It's stupid, but I am – after everything that happened with Oliver and how he dismissed me, like I was nothing-" Felicity shook her head, hands clenched underneath the table. Pushing air out of her mouth and breaking off, she looked towards the water, trying to keep calm, the sight not doing much to sooth her nerves.

She felt a hand on her arm, and looked up to find Michael attempting a sympathetic smile in her direction. "You're something, Felicity. I promise you that."

Returning the look, she covered his hand with her own. Her voice was steady as she continued, "It made me scared to let anyone else in. So when I started speaking to this other guy – he wanted something I couldn't give. He wanted a partner. I . . . if I do that again, if I give someone else that much – what if he does the same thing Oliver did? I can't lose anybody else."

It was the lie she'd had to tell: in this version of the story, Beetle was a guy she had started speaking to online. Still no names, no commitment – until she turned him down when he asked to meet. It wasn't too much of a stretch from the truth, enough to give Michael a lay of the land.

But even as she spoke them, Felicity knew her words were true, voice cracking on the final sentence.

"Shhh, hey, you're not losing anybody," her friend said softly. Michael was not soft-spoken, he was loud and brash and never knew he'd crossed a line until it was a speck in the distance – but he could tell how important this was so her. "Felicity, life is . . . unpredictable. I never thought I'd be here, that my life would be this," he shook his head, giving a half laugh. "But I am. And that's what matters."

". . . I don't understand."

"What you are isn't who you are. What's happened before?" Michael shrugged easily, "That's the past. But you can't live in the present and let it define you – right not, you make yourself alone. Just because he hurt you, it doesn't mean everyone will. You've got to have faith in people – and yourself."

Felicity blinked, "So you think I made the wrong choice when I told the other guy I wouldn't meet him?"

"I think you were scared. And if they care at all – they'll respect that." Michael smiled dimly, "I'm not saying rush off and throw yourself into his arms, not by any means. It isn't a switch. You have to learn to trust yourself before you let anyone else have that much influence on your life, but, well, you can't do that until you've made peace with how you've changed."

Michael grinned, getting up to call a cab. "But then again, don't take my advice. I'm an idiot."

He walked away, leaving Felicity and a storm of confused thoughts in his wake. At the heart of it, Mikey was right - It wasn't her identity she was protecting by keeping the Blue Beetle at arms length. It was her heart.

She'd given it to Oliver almost the moment she had met him, in every word and touch and in every moment she had helped him since. And then he had thrown her away like yesterday's trash.

That kind of heartbreak lingered. Felicity was scared to make another home here like the one she had lost; she was scared of letting someone else in to lose them again. It was that simple. The only thing stopping her was her own doubt.

"Hey, cab's coming." Michael appeared back at her side; face flush from the wind chill now. Felicity checked her watch, eyebrows furrowing when she realised how long they'd been out there. Closing her eyes, Felicity shook her head before reaching out and grabbing Ted's collar; planting a grateful kiss on his cheek.

"I have to do something. Can you hold the cab for ten minutes while I make a call?"

"Sure thing," Michael agreed, looking slightly taken back at the affection. "Are you okay? What's so important that it can't wait?"

Felicity stepped back, only slightly shaky on her feet. "Making peace."

She left a drunken message on Oliver's voicemail. It was clichéd and probably a stupid thing to do, but as she poured at everything she had wanted to say to him since that night into the empty air of the machine, Felicity felt herself grow lighter with every word freed. It was unrestrained, liberating.

It was as close to peace as she had gotten since Oliver had walked into her office with a bullet-ridden laptop.

"Okay," Felicity said nervously to the comm on the Bug. It had been a few days since her drunken realisation that she was scared to be close to people, and it had taken her mulling it over in her mind for that long to come to a conclusion: she didn't want to live her life scared. She wouldn't. "Beetle, I'm going to talk a lot now, and you're going to listen to me. I hope."

"I . . . I'm sorry, for being so short with you the other day. But I'm not sorry for my decision. I stand by it, in fact: I don't want to meet you face to face yet." Felicity took a deep breath, "but one day, maybe. I – I let something that happen to me rule my life for a while, when I said we couldn't be friends. Like you told me about the last Blue Beetle and how you lost him, this isn't my first crack at saving people, either. I lost someone. Not in the same way but . . . I lost them all the same."

"I'm sorry," Beetle cut in quietly. There was complacency in his tone, edging on forgiveness.

"It's okay. It's really okay," Felicity said strongly, without the hesitancy of her words before. "I'm still glad I knew him, nothing will change that. But it's my choice now to make something new – I want to help you again, I want to be a team. But with like, baby steps. Just for now."

"Baby steps it is, then," Beetle agreed. The relief in his voice was unmistakable. "I've been going crazy in here, talking to myself. I think even my own tech is planning a mutiny."

Felicity found herself glowing, edges of her lips tilted up as she pushed her glasses firmly onto her nose in a self-assured manner. "I've been thinking. About a name, that is. Calling me 'friend' is starting to get ridiculous – if accurate."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We have some work to do, but we've already established a name for you. People are talking – but there's still a lot of people who need our help. And to do it," Felicity smiled. "Call me Kerberos."

A/N: I know I didn't update in ages. I'm sorry. But this is quite a long chapter to make up for it, and I'll try to get this story finished soonish! Felicity needed a superhero name, and 'Kerberos' is an authentication protocol developed by programmers at MIT - so in my head, it was probably something Felicity heard about and learned while she was there. The word also originates from the three headed dog of the underworld Cerebus, which ties in to the three members of her teams: Felicity, Oliver & Diggle - and now of course, Felicity, Beetle and next chapter, Booster Gold. But also props to my friend Gabby for helping me pick the name!

Next chapter 'A night you'll never forget' (guess the song) and the reaction to Felicity's drunken voicemail over in Starling. The convergence of the two cities is coming.