A/N: Muse still wasn't finished. She decided there needed to be two more parts. Thank you so much for reading. Enjoy, and let me know what you think, I love hearing from readers.
Oliver was familiar with death in all its forms, John knew that. He was familiar with it as well himself. Some deaths made you angry, some grateful, some vengeful, some so hurt you wanted to curl in a ball like a child and pretend it hadn't happened. Sometimes though, death could even break the living. Smash them down into pieces so small it would be impossible to put back together, and that was a different sort of death as well.
John Diggle thought he knew death. But when they'd been faced with the loss of her he knew something else entirely.
In the span of a few minutes he'd not only lost his sister in all the ways that mattered, but another brother as well.
The city lost it's champion. Roy, his best friend.
But the city also lost its hero, and, Roy, his mentor, because where she went he followed.
The two of them were symbiotic. A balance so perfect one could look right past it and not even notice. Light and dark, small and large, loud and sullen. It was in the way they merged, the way they came together where it all made sense. That was where it didn't matter how much they disagreed, how much they'd hurt each other, how much wasn't being said, it was the place where what was silently understood transcended everything else.
And when half of that partnership was ripped away the other half fell, swift and hard with nothing to catch it. No choice but to fall. Because there was no choice to make.
John had to watch as a stranger with familiar eyes cut their legs out from under them, tore out their heart and burnt the ruins to the ground. Because without her they were done.
He watched his world crumble, unable to stop it. Nothing in his past could have prepared him for this. He'd never felt more weak or helpless.
And then the shame came because he should have known better, he should have trusted. She never had given up and it seemed like she never would. She did what she always did, she was exceptional. The long alarm of death had been replaced by the repeating rhythm of life, the beat almost mocking the woman who had tried to take it all from them.
After Oliver had been brought back, hauled upright and dragged forward to resume his place at her side John had turned his heavy gaze to the corner where Meri Smoak though she could hide. John watched. It was what he did best. She couldn't have known that John Diggle excelled at seeing into the shadows.
It was up to him to ensure that this never happened again. Oliver had more than enough to worry about, this was one thing he could take on and see through.
When his target, because that was what she was now, slipped from the room under the guise of going for coffee he exchanged a loaded look with Roy and followed her.
In the hallway she visibly gathered her courage and he saw the simper and heard the pleading tone before she could make them, one large hand coming up to cut her off. The unspoken authority that had kept his men alive in the field was effective even against her. She'd thought she'd be able to slip her way out of there just as easily as she'd slipped in, and he would let her go, but not before he saw his mission complete.
However, she'd never met her daughter's protector before. He couldn't be handled, he couldn't be bullied. His sole focus was Felicity's continued safety and it would not be broken.
In careful slow words he told her how it was going to be. There was no room for discussion or negotiation.
She was shrewd and resilient, he knew she'd had to be to survive where she did. So she took the deal because she knew it was in her best interest. No further words were spoken between them. There was a quick trip down three floors where he stood watch as she signed over all legal rights and saw that it was notarized. When they went back up Roy had posted himself as guard outside Felicity's door, glowering. She didn't try to go back in.
Almost twenty-four hours passed before Oliver turned his attention away from Felicity. One questioning look was all it had taken, and all John had to do was nod. 'Taken care of, boss.' he telegraphed silently. He received a nod in return and Oliver went back to holding the small hand with the chipped blue paint on the nails because that's all he needed to do just then.
His eyes scanned the room, much like it had scanned the desert during patrol.
One. Two. Three. Four.
All present and accounted for.
Their world was slowly knitting itself back together.