A/N: I'm going to be on vacation next week, so the next chapter will be delayed a week. Sorry!

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It wasn't a typical Monday. It was one that was three days since she'd last seen or heard from Oliver Queen. Felicity was having a difficult time concentrating on anything, especially at work. She pushed the pair of glasses, that she only wore for reading, up higher on her nose as she tried to look over the latest photographs sent in to her department.

She knew Laurel was just as tense. She hadn't heard from Tommy Merlyn either. It wasn't as if Felicity had asked Oliver to contact her, but the fact that Tommy had told Laurel that he would contact her, and had not...was worrisome. Were they okay? When Sunday had come and gone with no word both she and Laurel tried to remain positive. Felicity tried to process why she cared so much and it really came down to…Oliver was a good person and there was just something about him. Something in him had connected with something in her.

"Felicity,"

Felicity turned as she her heard her name to see Tommy Merlyn standing in the doorway of her lab office. A bandage wrapped around his head with the left side of his face badly bruised. He was still handsome, maybe even more so for being alive and in front of her.

"It looks worse than it is," Tommy said with a tiny lop-sided smile at her look of concern.

"I don't believe that. It's so good to see you Tommy. Laurel…," Felicity said as she walked towards him and glanced at the doorway hoping to see Oliver.

"I just came from talking with her, she knows I'm okay, and she said I would find you in here. No, Felicity, Oliver isn't with me," Tommy said softly as he noticed her looking behind him and then gingerly sat down at the table that Felicity pointed to as he spoke. He sighed with relief of getting off his feet.

"I'm sorry, Felicity. I've been under observation for the last 48 hours for a mild concussion and I've only been able to get off the base to tell Laurel I was okay. My crew and I had a difficult landing when one of our wheels didn't come down…and I need to tell you about Oliver,"

"I'm so grateful you're okay, Tommy…is he okay?" She whispered almost too afraid to hear the answer.

"Felicity, Oliver has been listed as Missing In Action."

"Missing In Action?"

"This mission was deep into German territory and the risk was even greater than normal. His plane went down as we were on our way home. The tower received a mayday call as he flew over German occupied Holland, but no word since then,"

"You can't give up hope, Felicity. I'm not. He's MIA. We don't know if he's dead. We don't," Tommy said, as he placed his hand over hers and squeezed it. Tommy's strength seeped into her as his look of determination did not waiver. Felicity squeezed back with her hope strengthening as well.

"And I have something for you,"

"For me?"

"Oliver left me instructions that if he didn't return from the mission that I was to make sure his letters were delivered. He wrote one for you. I struggled with the decision to send these letters out. I haven't given up on him, but...I don't know if and when I'll be sent out on another mission Felicity. And I...I wanted to make sure you have his letter, in case something happens to me," Tommy shakily held an envelope towards her and Felicity didn't want to take it.

"It's okay," he whispered to her as she slowly took it from his fingers.

"You don't have to open it. I just needed to make sure I honored his wishes. He's not dead, Felicity. He's not…. I need to get back to Laurel. I had asked her if I could talk with you in private. I'll let you know any news that I get of Oliver. I promise Felicity,"

"Tommy?"

"Yes,"

"Thank you," Felicity said as she watched him stand up and slowly walk out the door.

Felicity ran her finger on the top of the envelope as she turned it over and looked at the strong, masculine scrawl of her name on the front.

What could he have possibly written to her?

He was okay. Yes, he was okay. She wouldn't think otherwise. Wouldn't the world feel different? Even though they had only met wouldn't the world be...less?

She stood up and walked over to her office door and locked it. The click of the lock echoing in the silence of the moment.

She opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

Dear Felicity,

I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that I had a mission on Saturday. It just wasn't something I wanted to talk about. Forgive me.

If you're reading this letter than I didn't make it back. I can only hope that Tommy and the rest of my squadron did.

This letter is not meant to make you sad or unhappy, it is written in the hopes that it can bring you comfort. I wanted you to know that I would have really enjoyed our next dance.

I write these words, just a few hours after having left you, with the lingering feeling of joy that you gave me tonight. You didn't have to smile at me or talk to me or dance with me, but you did. You spent one evening with a stranger who will never think of you as one, ever. I look at you as a friend. A beautiful friend amongst the turmoil and darkness of our current lives and I hope that's okay.

I thank you for your kindness. Our few hours together meant the world to me.

I also wanted to thank you for your service to your country. I can only admire your sense of duty to your country and its ideals. It is important. It is necessary.

Be safe my friend. Be safe and may you have a truly remarkable life, Felicity Smoak.

Oliver

Felicity didn't know how long she stood by the door holding the letter. She read his words over and over till she couldn't see them through her tear dampened glasses. He was a gentle soul...he IS a gentle soul, Felicity reminded herself. She would see him again to tell him that.

There was a soft knock on the door before Laurel softly asked her if she could come in. Felicity unlocked the door and they both looked at each other then hugged. They offered each other sympathy and comfort in a world that was scary and heartbreaking.

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48 hours earlier, Saturday, twilight.

Oliver woke to the acidic scent of smoke, blood and a searing pain all along his left side. Crunched up metal and sparking chunks of what was left of the cockpit of the Green Archer came into focus. He turned his head as he heard the low moan of his co-pilot, Jim.

"Jim," Oliver croaked out as he tried to move and help him. His seatbelt stopped him and as he tried to unclip it he found he couldn't lift his left arm. The violence of the landing must have dislocated his left arm.

God, the landing. He needed to get his crew out of the plane. The Germans would have seen the plane go down and would be swarming them at any moment.

"Jim! BB, anyone hear me? We need to evacuate, now!"

Oliver struggled out of his chair and stumbled over to check on Jim.

"There's something wrong with my foot. I think I broke my toes, Oliver. You need to leave me. Get out of here,"

"Don't even go there. We're all getting out of here. Come on, help me get you up. Jim! Help me get you up!" Oliver yelled at his co-pilot and friend as he used his one good arm to help Jim stand up. No one was going to be left behind. No one.

As the two of them struggled around the mangled cockpit they could finally see the devastation of the crash site. The Archer was in pieces, but she had kept her fuselage together enough to protect the crew. Her wings and tail were clipped and shredded and on fire in a field of debris a mile long.

"Can anyone hear me?" yelled Oliver as he saw bodies moving slowly.

"Cap, we're here,"

"Yeah, we're alive,"

"We need to get out. I don't know if the Archer will explode and the Germans will be here any minute. Come on boys, move!"

As they piled out of the debris and smoke, voices surrounded them.

"Americans! Quickly, you just come with us! Quickly!"

Oliver looked at the small group of men and women who surrounded them. Who were they and what was going on?

"You must do as we say, quickly. The Germans are coming!" said a large, bulky man in farm overalls as he and the others took any crew member they could find and began to drag them away from the plane.

Oliver didn't know who they were. The most important thing though was that they were not speaking German. He only heard English and Dutch being spoken.

"Wait! Please," yelled Oliver. "I need to see who survived," Oliver stood holding onto Jim, listing back and forth as they clung together.

Oliver looked over all the uniformed figures that stood or lay on the ground and counted 7. My god, they had all survived the crash. All 9 of them. They were all dealing with different levels of trauma and injuries, but they were all looking at Oliver and smiling through it all.

"Enough, come with us, now!"

All 9 crew members were rushed away in different directions. Some in groups and some individually. Approaching vehicles could be heard as the local farmers and their family members desperately rushed the Americans to safety from German soldiers.